Underground Symphony
by Umeko
Summary: Can a chance meeting between a princess and a count's son blossom into something more? Toss in a meddlesome kid sister and... VirgilxBridget
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

This is an expansion on the Solitude POV's of the Albionians. Virgil-Bridget centric.

* * *

**1. Boy Meets Girl**

"Virgil, for God's sake, behave yourself!" A father cuffed his curious eight-year-old son as the youngster almost sat on one of the factory's conveyor belts. "No climbing onto the machines. No touching stuff. No bothering the workers…. Where was I? Right, here we have the line producing the B174 computer chip… Virgil, are you listening?! There'll be a pop quiz later and I expect full marks from you!" Count Victor Walsh of Manchester wondered if he should have waited a few more years before introducing his sole offspring to the family industry. But he was an old man, even for a Methuselah.

Virgil had no interest in the running of the Ghetto's factory. The father and son attracted a number of curious but discrete looks from the workers. They were as alike as chalk and cheese. The count was stern, his mouth turned down in a perpetual frown. His hair and beard were still a luxuriant black, a result of his Methuselah heritage. Everyone here in the Ghetto's a Methuselah, descended from the original band of forty or so individuals who started this underground town. Dark-coloured hair was commonplace but occasionally, fair hair was seen, as in the case of the count's only offspring.

Virgil took after the countess, who also had fair hair. He was a merry-natured and outgoing boy. He had also inherited his mother's love of music. Normally well-behaved, he was being difficult today because his father had dragged him away from a much-loved piano lesson with his mother. "Piano? Pah! Since when is music worth anything here?" the count would always admonish his wife whenever she brought up hiring a proper piano teacher for their son.

"Any more bad behaviour from you, young man, and the piano goes, do you hear?" Young Virgil froze in his tracks. "Yes, Father." Obediently, he returned to his father's side with a scowl.

"Sir! Sir! His Majesty is here on a surprise tour!" A flustered manager came scampering down the corridor. "What the heck is he doing coming here? Young man, I want no trouble from you," Count Victor grumbled as he followed the manager. Virgil followed close behind.

"Your Majesty, you shouldn't have troubled yourself… A phone call would have sufficed."

"No trouble at all, old chap. I want you to take a look at this new automobile model design and tell me what you think…"

The blond boy stifled a yawn as his father talked shop with the red-bearded visitor. He has seen that face before in the newspapers clippings of the parades Mother kept. "If only we could go see a parade…" she would always add wistfully. "Why can't we, Mother?" Virgil would ask. His mother would always laugh sadly and ruffle his hair. The visitor didn't look very kingly now in his greasy overalls.

"Hmm, we'll be able to provide a computer chip to programme the car to park…" the count pondered over the blueprints, oblivious to his yawning son.

"Are you bored? Grownups can be so boring at times…" the boy looked up to see the little girl looking at him. She was dressed in a simple but clean blue pinafore dress and had her red hair tied in two pigtails. She wore black boots on her feet, similar to the type often worn by servants.

"How did you get here?" Virgil asked cautiously. He was home-schooled by his mother and had little chance to meet children his age. "My father brought me here. I'm Bridie. I just turned seven last month."

"I'm eight and my name is Virgil."

"Good afternoon, Virgil. I've never been to this town before… Can you show me around, please?"

"Okay…"

With that, Virgil took the Princess Bridget of Albion by her little hand and walked out of the factory as the king and count discussed their latest plans for the Albionian automobile industry.

* * *

A couple of minutes later….

"Hello…. Anyone home?" Bridie's voice echoed back at them. "Vents, they go everywhere here, even the places grownups don't know about… I've explored almost all of them," Virgil puffed up his chest in boyish pride. "Really?" The redhead clambered into the vent without a second thought. "Bridie… maybe we better go back…" Virgil fretted. "Not until you show me about," Bridie replied. "Do you have a secret garden here with pretty flowers and birds?"

"Flowers and birds? We have no flowers and birds here…" Left with no other option, Virgil climbed in after her. "But I know a place no grownups know of… You can see the whole town from there… Follow me, this way…" On their hands and knees, the children made their way along the network of shafts and vents. And promptly got lost.

Inky darkness enveloped them and a deathly silence. Virgil, pulling himself forward on his elbows, led the way as Bridie followed close behind. The vent shouldn't be this narrow… "Virgil, are you sure this is the way out?" She tugged on his ankle. "Trust me, Bridie," he tried to sound as confident as an eight-year-old boy could. In truth, he was terrified. He has heard those horror stories so many times of children getting lost in the maze of vents and shafts, getting trapped or falling to their deaths in some pit. He never dreamed it could happen to him. Did they make a wrong turn earlier? Maybe it was a left-turn and not a right he should have taken at the last junction…

"Virgil, I see light ahead on the right." Bridie called out suddenly.

"Sure?" Virgil asked as he strained to peer into the darkness. He couldn't see anything. "Trust me, as I trusted you." Bridie tugged on his ankle.

A few hundred yards down where the vent widened, they found light, pouring through a grill. The boy kicked it out with a clatter. Together, they emerged onto a landing, dusty, grimy and laughing.

"Sorry I got us lost, Bridie. We don't have any flowers here, will this do?" Virgil offered Bridie a rose folded from his white handkerchief.

"Why, thank you, Virgil… aren't you going to ask me for a dance too?" Bridie laughed and spun around on the deserted landing overlooking the Ghetto.

"Sure…" Virgil smiled awkwardly and took her hand. "I only know a bit of dancing…"

"I'll teach you then," a twinkle of mischief came to Bridie's blue eyes as she placed her hand on Virgil's shoulder. "It's one-two… one-two…"

"Er, Bridie… Is it alright for me to hold you like this?" Virgil flushed a beetroot red when Bridie took his arm and slipped it around her childish waist.

"This is a waltz. You are supposed to hold me like this… It is difficult to practise dancing with Papa, because he's so much taller than me…"

* * *

While the children danced blissfully, the factory was in an uproar.

"Virgil! Princess Bridget! Where are you?" The disappearance of the children has finally come to the notice of their fathers. The open air vent in a quiet corner of the factory had been spotted by a sharp-eyed engineer. It was too narrow to admit the smallest grownup. So the search parties traced the length of the vent network with the aid of blueprints, tapping and calling the children's names. To complicate matters, there many unmapped vents and shafts that branched off into long disused parts of the underground town.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

Yes, Virgil and Bridie will be in a lot of trouble when their fathers finally find them. Poor Virgil is feeling so awkward having to waltz with Bridie, but he's too gentlemanly to decline.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

* * *

**2. Meet the Walshes **

"Christ! He was waltzing with the princess! His Majesty was furious, naturally. She's his only child…" The little boy cowered under his bedclothes at his father's voice. His rear ached from his father's belt. He had never seen his father so angry in all his life.

"Victor dear, surely you must be over-reacting. He's only a child," his mother's softer voice floated in. "Maybe you were a little too harsh on Virgil."

"Only a child? Of all the moronic, irresponsible things to do… It's your fault! If you had spent more time educating him instead of wasting your time tinkering about on the piano…"

"Victor Walsh, don't dare you speak to me like that! After all I gave up for your family…" Crashes and shattering sounds hinted that his parents were throwing chairs and assorted porcelain again. There were more curses from his father and screams from his mother. The commotion finally cumulated with a resounding slap. About ten minutes later, Virgil listened as his mother stormed out of their apartment with her valise in tow and declaring aloud that she would be at her sister's should one stubborn ox named Victor Walsh wish to apologize. And may Hell freeze over if she returned home before then. It was the third time that month.

Her son darted under the bed on hearing his father's approaching footsteps. He was too slow. His father seized his ankle and yanked him out. "What do you think you are doing? Hiding? Walshes don't hide like cowards!" he demanded. Terrified of further punishment, the boy cowered before his father. The Count took one look at the frightened boy and gave a small sound of disgust.

"God in Heaven! Why am I stuck with you for a son?" Muttering under his breath, the Count of Manchester left his son's bedroom.

Virgil Walsh felt his heart sink. He has always been a disappointment to his father.

* * *

Quiet. He needed quiet and he found it ironically at the place where he had spent an enjoyable few hours with the princess. Thinking of her, he could almost see her red pigtails and bright smile… Gingerly, he climbed onto the narrow ledge overlooking the town below. After two weeks, his parents were still mad at each other all because of him. If only…. 

"I'm sorry I got you in trouble, Virgil…"

"Bridie! How did you get here?" The blond boy almost fell off his perch in shock. The red-haired princess was grinning impishly at him. The princess was dressed in a dusty pink frock with matching pink sandals. To his horror, the princess stepped onto the very edge of their perch, one dainty sandaled foot extended into empty air. "A sparrow told me. Sometimes, I wish I were a bird."

"Get back from there! You'll fall!" Disregarding his safety, the future count stepped up to the edge. The sheer height made him dizzy but he managed to keep his fear under control.

Giggling, the young girl allowed him to pull her back to safety. "Your father, I mean, His Majesty will kill me, if my father doesn't kill me first!" Virgil exclaimed. "Princess, is His Majesty around?"

"My father doesn't know I sneaked out. He's away this week in Germanius. And please don't call me princess or Bridget. I'm Bridie," the girl's face took on a serious look. "I overheard Sparrow the chamberlain telling the gardener not to block up an old tunnel in the rose garden. I remember Father told me of such a tunnel used by your family when they need to look up my family… And I came here. Took me some time to find the way here though. I brought some cupcakes, would you like one? I need to be back by five for my piano lessons," she pulled a face.

"You play the piano too?" the boy asked curiously. Surely the important people like royalty didn't bother with what his father always called a frivolous trifle.

"A little. I'm not very good at it. Mother used to play the piano, so Father thought I might be able to learn…" Bridie absently chewed on the end of her pigtail. Somehow, the sight of his playmate gnawing on her glossy red hair irked Virgil.

"Don't do that," he blurted out. "It'll be a shame if you ruin your hair like that. Didn't Her Majesty ever tell you that?"

"Mother died soon after I was born. A fever, so Father tells me."

"I'm sorry…"

"Do you play the piano, Virgil? If you do, it will be a shame if you chewed your fingers raw," Bridie gently pulled the older boy's hand from his lips. Virgil looked at his fingers. She was right. He had been chewing them right down to the cuticles. His mother had always told him not to bite his nails, but with her away and the Count at work…

"Let's have a game! I stop chewing my hair and you quit chewing your nails and we'll see who goes the longest with chewing their hair or nails! Deal?" Bridie smiled.

"Deal," Virgil clasped her outstretched hand. She pulled him to his feet, laughing. "Let's have some cupcakes…"

* * *

Mortimer Montgomery, long-suffering butler to the Walshes, sighed as he took in the damage inflicted by the latest spat between his employers. That wine stain on the carpet would never ever wash out despite the housemaid's valiant efforts. The smashed Wedgewood tea set was an heirloom which had been around since his father's time. The Da Vinci painting in the hall was beyond salvaging. At least they spared the piano. The young master would be devastated if they wrecked the piano. It was the poor lad's only solace. Count Victor and his wife were both too proud to apologize to each other and their continued estrangement was likely. 

"Come on, Father's out. Let me show you the piano!" the butler recognized young Virgil's voice. He looked up from polishing the silver to catch a glimpse of the young master and a red-haired girl heading into the room where the piano sat. With a shrug, he returned to his work. It was good for the lad to mix with kids his age. The sound of children's singing and music soon filled the apartment.

_Yes, it's good for the young master to find a friend…_ he mused.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

I let Virgil have a fondness for the piano. Imagines young Virgil and princess Bridie playing the piano together…


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

**3. The Piano**

The Count was very surprised on returning to his apartment a few weeks later to hear children singing over the sound of the piano. He wondered if his wife had finally relented and returned home. He recognized his son's voice, naturally… but the other voice… He opened the door…

"Y-your Highness!" he stuttered when he saw the young princess perched on the piano seat next to his son, their hands frozen in mid-melody over the ivory at his sudden entrance. "I-I'm informing His Majesty and escorting you back home…" the Count hurriedly bowed. He fixed his cowering son with a baleful glare. The Ghetto was no place for a princess of the royal Albionian family to be running about without proper escort. Young blond Methuselahs who have yet to see their ninth birthday did not qualify as an adequate escort.

"Mortimer! Take Master Virgil to his room immediately!" The butler took Virgil by the arm, gently urging him to his feet. _Whatever Count Victor says goes._

"I guess this is goodbye then…" Virgil whispered sadly. Bridie looked at her playmate with a frown. She opened her mouth as if to protest but decided to keep quiet instead. They both knew this was the end of their subterranean expeditions in the vast rambling warren of the Ghetto.

Swiftly, the princess was whisked back to the palace and the world above. Virgil expected that was the last he would see of his friend. He was wrong.

* * *

Within the fortnight, a letter bearing the royal seal arrived at the Walshes'. The countess, who had finally decided to return to the count's apartments after much persuasion by her sister, hurried into her son's bedroom where poor Virgil had been confined ever since his father discovered him and the princess at the piano.

"Virgil! Come on, get dressed!" Without waiting for a reply from her stunned son, she forced him into his best shirt and dragged a hairbrush through his hair. The boy winced as her nervous but vigorous brushing scratched his scalp. The household was in an uproar. Count Virgil was shouting for Mortimer to get his son's best shoes polished on the double.

"What's going on?" Virgil asked. His mother was wearing her best dress, the ivory one with the pearls in its high collar. She only wore it to very important piano recitals. Her hair was immaculately coiffed.

"The princess, she has invited us above. Oh my goodness… Tutoring the princess in music…" The countess gasped in a mix of amazement and excitement. "Virgil, I'm not sure I can do it! Above! And you…"

Virgil fidgeted under the proud gaze of his mother. "Everything will be alright, mother." He patted her hand to reassure her.

"You will be accompanying your mother. Watch your attitude," Count Victor growled a warning as he thrust a freshly-pressed coat at his son. "Obviously, whatever the princess wants, she gets…" he complained to no one in particular.

* * *

"Countess, this way please…" the liveried footman escorted both mother and son into a cavernous hall. Night had fallen in Albion. For the first time in his young life, Virgil saw the moon, a thin silver crescent in the night sky outside the window. This alien sight was strangely reassuring to the youngster who was overwhelmed by the opulence of the hall they stood in. His mother's gaze darted from painting to painting, chandelier to damask drapes, as if trying to commit to memory the surreal surroundings.

"Countess, a good evening to you. And this is young Virgil, I presume?" His Majesty, the king of Albion was strolling down the grand staircase at the end of the hall. He was a large man, red-faced and jolly. The countess hurried dropped a curtsey, tongue-tied as she was. Beside her, Virgil bowed. The king walked over to the pair, scrutinizing the boy with a keen eye.

* * *

"_I refuse to play the piano ever!" At three o'clock that day, Princess Bridget, only child of King Albert of Albion threw a major tantrum after yet another disastrous piano lesson under the tutelage of the top piano teacher in Albion. Screaming, she had demanded in her childishly imperious manner that all pianos and music teachers were to be removed from her sight. It was unheard of in those days for an Albion noblewoman to be unschooled in the piano, what more the crown princess? _

In the end, the princess had relented on one condition. That condition now stood before him. The king was a shrewd man. He knew his headstrong daughter treasured her friendship with this Methuselah boy. Still, such a friendship will have to be carefully watched… _Well, he'd have to test the lad's talent first, wouldn't he? _

"Virgil Walsh, play," he commanded and indicated the grand piano standing near the foot of the stairs. Virgil heard his mother gasp softly. Her gloved hands fluttered uncontrollably to her mouth. She went pale under her powder and rouge. Heart thumping, Virgil bowed and went over to the piano. He climbed onto the piano bench. The instrument appeared to dwarf him. Cautiously, he tested the pedals and keys. It was an old instrument, with stubborn pedals and keys stiff with age. Not the most ideal instrument to play.

Virgil felt his mother and the king watching him intently in the silent hall. He could not let his parents down now. He would not disappoint. He closed his eyes, trying control the increasing nausea building up from his nerves.

"You can do it, Virgil…" he fancied he heard his friend's voice. _For Bridie._ He would play the piano for her, just like he did in the Ghetto.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Fingers danced on the ivory keys. Soft strains of Beethoven's _For Elise _filled the air. When the tune was over, the applause was deafening.

"Bravo!" The king clapped heartily. The countess clapped slowly, teary-eyed with pride. The most enthusiastic applause came from the red-pigtailed princess standing by the piano. Virgil was so engrossed in his music he failed to notice her entrance down the grand staircase. Bridie was wearing one of her lacy frock-dresses, incongruously mismatched with the rabbit-headed bedroom slippers on her feet.

"What do you know, Bridget, you were right. The Countess of Manchester will be your new music tutor. And you, boy, may take your piano lessons with the princess. By Jove, what gems we have hidden away in the Ghetto!" the king laughed heartily, hugged his daughter with one arm and slapped Virgil's shoulder with his free hand. Over her father's shoulder, Bridie winked at her friend.

"Come on, Jones! Show the princess' new tutor to the conservatory," the king called out to the waiting footman outside. "Bridget, change into some sensible shoes for your piano lesson," he admonished as he dropped a fond kiss on the princess' brow.

* * *

Back at the Walsh apartment, the Count was less than enthusiastic about his offspring's new appointment at court. "Pah! Don't get your hopes up, lad! It's only Her Highness' whim. Lord knows females have many nonsensical whims. Soon she'll tire of this passing fancy. Princesses are all alike…"

"She's not like those princesses!" Virgil protested. He didn't see that fist coming. The blow knocked him to the carpet.

"Don't talk back to me, boy! Believe me. I have seen enough of the royals in my years. Just remember your place, our place, is here in the Ghetto, not above," the count growled. "And I still expect you to finish that algebra homework by tomorrow."

"Yes, father," Virgil rubbed his swollen cheek. "I'll finish it by tomorrow." However, his mind was not on his unfinished homework but on his next piano lesson with Bridie.

**Author's Notes:**

I'm using the piano as a key instrument in bringing Bridie and Virgil together. Yes, the princess is a spoiled brat at times.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

What do you think of the Bridget-Virgil pairing?

* * *

**4. Neverland**

Life was stifling in the royal household. Princess Bridget rolled her eyes in exasperation as her nanny dutifully tied her bootlaces for her. She could easily dress herself. Another maid held out her gloves. She never recalled having so many servants watching out for her back then. The only reprieve was during her weekly music lessons. Their sole chaperon then was Virgil's easily distracted mother. The Countess was prone to losing herself for long periods gazing at beautiful paintings or playing a piece by Bach on the royal conservatory's grand piano. Short breaks during the session were fully utilized for introducing her friend to the childish delights of the palace grounds.

"_Does it bite?" Virgil had blanched when she introduced him to her favourite horse in the royal stables. "Her name's Duchess. She's a nice horse. Go on, she wants to make friends with you," she urged. "Pat her nose, she likes that." Tentatively, the young nobleman reached out to pat the first flesh-and-blood horse he has seen in his life. "That tickles!" he squealed when the horse licked his hand. _

"_Bridie, what's that beautiful music?" Virgil had remarked on hearing the song of a nightingale for the first time in the palace rose gardens one night. _

Bridie smiled. For three brief months, her friend had taken her on adventures in that underground world few knew of. She missed those days but she had given her word to her father never to go into the Ghetto without his permission. For three years, they have played the piano together. In return for that, she was glad she could show Virgil the world that existed outside. Too soon, it was ending. She would miss those delightful hours spent with Virgil.

"Bridget. It is time for you to go to school," Father had announced one morning over breakfast. "Arrangements have been made and you will start in September." No more was she to be home-schooled by various tutors. All Albionian princesses had to go to that exclusive ladies' school up north in Scotland to be trained in the social graces of their station.

* * *

"Virgil?" she whispered furtively into the phone. She hoped it was not his parents on the other end.

"Bridie?" Virgil yawned. It was late as far as he was concerned. He cast a watchful eye on the beefy housekeeper his father had hired two years ago to replace Mortimer in minding the household. Thankfully, she was snoring in her armchair, the half-empty gin bottle at her feet. His mother was away giving a charity concert and his father at work as usual.

"Could you come out tomorrow afternoon? Please keep it secret. I'll like to go to the fairground with you…"

"In daylight?" Virgil had never been up above in daylight and beyond the palace walls. It was unheard of.

"Well, yes… I have sun block you could use," Bridie added.

"Will three o'clock be good? My lessons will be over by then." Virgil replied after a slight pause. His parents would be at the opening of the new plant and the housekeeper always went out with Aunt Vespesia's butler on Wednesday afternoons. He supposed that as he hadn't experienced any symptoms of turning yet, he need not fear the sun. Still…

* * *

It was a warm late August day and summer was still reigning in Londonium. Two children slipped out from a side-gate of the palace. The pigtailed girl pulled the hesitant boy along. She had been to the fairground several times previously incognito with an elderly granduncle. The late Duke of York, who had passed on in spring, always loved to experience the anonymity of a commoner and he had shared this love with his grandniece.

"It's so bright…" Virgil gazed in wonder at the brilliant blue dome of the sky above with its few puffy cotton-candy clouds. They were modestly-dressed in the garb of children from a middle-class household. A couple of palace guards they passed in the street did not give the princess a second glance. A brief walk through the park later, they were in the Piccadilly Summer Carnival.

"That looks scary…" Virgil looked at the roller-coaster with trepidation. "Yes, but it's exciting, too!" Bridie squealed and clapped her hands, dropping her hotdog. "I'm riding it!"

"Wait! I can't let you ride that alone!" He joined the queue after Bridie.

"Sure?"

Fifteen minutes in the queue and a terrifying three minutes later, the blond boy found himself leaning over a bin and regurgitating the remains of his hotdog while his friend patted him on the back. "Feel better?" she asked sweetly. Weakly, Virgil nodded. 

"How about another ride? I promise it wouldn't be a scary one this time." She pointed at the merry-go-round.

Time flew and soon it was five o'clock. The pair bought a huge ice-cream sundae from a nearby café. They attracted admiring looks from the waitress and patrons. They were a handsome pair. The boy had hair like spun gold. His skin was fair and his features reminiscent of a craved angel. His companion had flame-coloured hair that glowed in the sunlight. Her elfin face and smiling blue eyes hinted at mischief. Even in their modest clothes, they exuded an aura of mobility. The children shared the ice-cream between them, laughing with carefree innocence only children knew.

"Virgil… I will be leaving soon," she finally said.

"Leaving? Why?" Shocked, Virgil dropped his spoon with a clatter onto the table.

"School. Father's sending me to boarding school. He said: 'Bridget, it is time for you to learn to be a young lady.' So I'm leaving in two weeks. There will be no more piano lessons, Virgil. And I'll miss you… I'll be back for the holidays and we could write…" she rambled on helplessly. They both knew Virgil's address did not exist in the Albion post office's records. Almost no communication was made between the world above and the hidden Ghetto.

"I'll miss you too, Bridie." There was nothing more he could say. Instead, he placed his pale hand over her tiny one on the table. They never finished the sundae.

* * *

"VIRGIL! Where the heck have you been?" Virgil swore his father's voice could be heard in the furthest depths of the Ghetto as he braced himself to face the coming storm. Contrary to his expectations, the Count had returned from the factory earlier and was outraged to discover his son missing. The errant housekeeper had been located and was summarily dismissed. Aunt Vespesia would have to decide on whether to keep her butler.

"I was Above at a carnival with the princess." There was no point lying. His father always knew when he lied.

"WHAT?! You little moron! Our kind does not go roving about Above! Our place is_ here_, in the Ghetto! Christ! Do you have any idea what will happen if they find out about us? Anarchy, chaos!"

Virgil bit his lip to keep from crying out as his father soundly whipped him with a leather belt. One day, he would grow up and turn. The bacillus in his blood would render sunlight deadly to him. No more carnival outings under the August sun. For a fleeting moment, he enviously thought of Peter Pan and his paradise where children need not grow up or listen to adults.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

Bye bye, Bridie. She'll be back though.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

* * *

**5. Letters **

It had taken a good three weeks for his wounds to heal sufficiently for him to resume his lessons. Virgil now took his lessons with his cousin Vera under the stern eye of Aunt Vespesia. His mother had initially been dismayed that her services were no longer required by the princess. She had reacted by throwing herself into re-arranging the much neglected Walsh household. Good help was hard to find. A succession of maids and servants drifted in and out of their lives. She still gave performances at concerts though.

There were a few spats between the Count and his wife but with Aunt Vespesia's careful intervention, their relationship was mending. There was talk of trying for another baby. Virgil sincerely hoped it would be a little brother. He had experienced personally how much a handful, however much delightful a handful, little girls could be. He moved in with Aunt Vespesia for the week returning only on weekends, the better to give Father and Mother some peace, his aunt winked conspiringly at his parents over his head when he was first whisked off to her home.

Vera Walsh was Aunt Vespesia's ward ever since her parents died. A haughty raven-haired thirteen-year-old, she wasn't too thrilled about sharing her schoolroom with her younger cousin. Like most upper-class Ghetto dwellers, she was home-schooled like him. For months, he soldiered through endless assignments on calculus, physics, history and grammar. Aunt Vespesia was demanding as a tutor and Vera was prone to making snide remarks about any mistake he made. He rarely found time to sit at his piano.

His only solace was the letters his father grudging handed to him. Of course they had been read through by His Majesty and the Count before reaching his hands. He wrote back, knowing his father and His Majesty would screen them. The letters were carefully written. Bridie related how she was adjusting to life in the boarding school while Virgil wrote about his life with Aunt Vespesia. Any reference to Methuselahs, vampires or the underground Ghetto was cautiously omitted.

Never once did they dare express how much they missed each other's company.

* * *

_Dear Virgil_

_It was scary at first here but I have made friends with many of the girls in my class. The teachers may be strict but they are actually very nice. We have riding lessons every Friday. My horse's name is Star. She's very friendly and has a pretty white star on her nose. We have ballroom dancing and foreign language lessons as well. I'm learning French and German. Music lessons are on Wednesdays. Since I already know how to play the piano, I'm hoping they would let me learn the harp or the violin…

* * *

_

Dear Your Highness, Princess Bridget

I am living with Aunt Vespesia now. She's teaching me Latin grammar. It is very difficult, as is calculus and history. I had to partner Cousin Vera for her ballroom dancing lesson. She stomped on my foot twice. She's not a very good dancer. I lost a tooth yesterday when Vera's shopping bag accidentally hit me while I was doing my shoelaces. It's a baby tooth so it'd grow back. Aunt Vespesia's place doesn't have a piano because Aunt Vespesia's cat freaks out whenever she hears piano music.

* * *

_Dear Virgil_

_A 'Dear Bridie' will suffice. All my friends call me Bridie (at least I wish they would). Your Imperial Highness is such a mouthful to say. I have asked Father to send you a beginner's guide to basic Latin to help with your studies. I'll be starting violin lessons next week. Foreign languages can be so fascinating but so difficult to learn. By the way, I lost a tooth too. It fell out while I was brushing my teeth. I've put it under my pillow…

* * *

_

So the letters flew. Once a week at first, then once a fortnight… then every month… Virgil treasured every missive, keeping them carefully in his diary. Looking through them made life with Aunt Vespesia seem less bleak.

* * *

In her dormitory, the princess neatly folded the latest letter from her friend and placed it carefully in the hatbox she hid under her bed. True, she had many friends here but Virgil was special. A fresh dusting of snow had fallen outside covering the fields in a cloak of white. She smiled when she recalled Virgil's first experience with snowflakes. He was mesmerized by the delicate flakes as they fell out of the dark night sky. He remarked enthusiastically on their beauty. His praises petered out when she stuffed a handful of snow down the back of his coat. They then chased each other through the garden until the countess called them in.

She giggled at the memory. Too bad she was sick with a fever and unable to return home for the holidays. Her father would be visiting her at the school to spend Christmas together, as would half a dozen royal relations. Virgil once told her that he spent the holiday evening with his mother at home playing carols on the piano. Not much attention was paid to the holidays in the Ghetto.

Coughing, she pulled her dressing gown tighter around her and fished out her fountain pen. Being princess had its perks. She had her own room whereas most of the girls shared theirs with at least one other student. It was a tad lonely at night, lying in bed and wondering if the others were whispering secrets to each other after lights-out. Most of her Albionian classmates kept a respectful distance from her at times.

The foreign students tended to be more open. The Countess of Sicily had tried to discuss the weather with her last week but her English was poor. Sadly, she had to leave for the holidays. The Irish duke's twin daughters have also been called home for the festival. The Baroness of Iberia was not going away. She had come down with a case of measles and was quarantined in the sanatorium. The baroness' pet parrot always made her laugh.

She would give Virgil a little present this year to spend his holiday with.

* * *

_Merry Christmas. _The garishly-coloured card screamed. Suspiciously, Virgil prodded the birdcage-shaped parcel with the holes. He prayed it wasn't one of Bridie's pranks, not with Aunt Vespesia and Vera looking on. It squawked in protest.

"The Camptown ladies sing this song, do-dah, do-dah…"

He ripped off the brown paper. She sent him a parrot. The grey parrot stared at the boy through the bars with a beady eye. "My Bonnie lies over the ocean… my Bonnie lies over the sea…" it sang.

"So what are you going to call the bird? We'll expect you to take care of it. Lady is enough of a handful to care for," Vera declared as she held the overfed housecat. Cats were kept in the Ghetto for the practical purpose of vermin control. However, some have found places in the household as pampered pets. The large tabby licked her lips ominously as she studied the newcomer.

"E-earl, Earl Grey," Virgil stuttered. There was a handbook to parrot care and a small packet of birdseed under the cage. A letter was tucked in the pages of the book.

_Dear Virgil_

_They say grey parrots are smart and live for about thirty years. I look forward to spending the next holiday with him. Can you please teach him to sing God save the King? _

_Bridie _

_P.S. Cats eat birds. Keep him away from cats.

* * *

_

**Author's Notes: **

Should I let the bird live? I'd love to have young Virgil having to tell Bridie the parrot got eaten by the cat…


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

Estimated ages of Bridie and Virgil in this chapter are about 11-13 years and 12 – 14 years.

* * *

**6. Summer Vacation**

The princess spent her Easter break in Hispania with her father, who was on a diplomatic visit. On the very first day of summer vacation, Earl Grey met a grisly end. Virgil was sure he fastened the cage door before he left the room. When he returned, the parrot which was to greet Bridie with their national anthem was a pile of mangled flesh and feathers under Lady's paws. Angrily, he seized the clawing feline, hoping in vain that the bird was still alive.

"It's your fault for not taking care of the bird!" Vera screamed as she protected her precious cat from her cousin's rage. There was a fierce scuffle that was broken only when Aunt Vespesia and Virgil's mother stepped in through the door.

They were subjected to a brief scolding and promise of further discipline before Virgil was whisked off by his mother. He could not help noticing she appeared almost ill. He was going to meet the princess but how was he to tell her about the parrot?

Bridie had grown taller. She appeared oddly grownup in the green travelling dress she wore. Virgil fidgeted awkwardly. His collar felt too tight. She was taller than he was now. She moved awkwardly, unable to decide whether or not she should rush forward to embrace him like she would have done a year ago. In the end, she simply smiled and spoke to him.

"Virgil! Did you like my present? Can he sing _God save the king?_"

"Bridie, I'm sorry. A cat got Earl Grey…"

"A cat got Uncle James Grey? Well, I never knew he's allergic to cats…"

"No, I don't mean the Earl of Kent! I meant Aunt Vespesia's cat ate the parrot you gave me. I'm so sorry I didn't take better care of it…"

"Oh, Virgil… You really liked that parrot, didn't you?" she touched his wet cheek softly. He didn't mean to cry but the tears came. Shamefacedly, he blinked them away. "Oh, what happened to your hands and face?"

"I fought with the cat, and Cousin Vera," he admitted. No effort on his mother's part could hide the angry scratches he was left with. "Jones! Get a first-aid kit."

"It's just a few scratches, Your Highness…"

"It's Bridie, Virgil. Let me take care off those scratches before we go to the museum. You haven't turned yet, have you?"

* * *

Bridie was always so sweet and gentle. She's a lot of fun to hang out with, Virgil admitted to himself. Being with her was a welcome change from being with Vera or Aunt Vespesia. As for his parents, he had somehow grown distant from them ever since he started living with Aunt Vespesia. His father didn't beat him as much he used to. However, when he went home to his parents, he felt like he was an outsider. With Bridie, he felt he had a friend again. 

They went boating on the Thames, went to the museums and art galleries and rode horses in the park, often away from minders. The vacations ended too soon and Bridie was whisked back to school. Virgil saw her off at the station.

He was surprised when he returned to his family apartment to find his mother sitting in bed crying and his father palely holding her hand. Something bad had happened while he was away and he didn't know what.

"Virgil, please leave us," his father ordered. "Yes, father." Virgil immediately went to Aunt Vespesia's where Cousin Vera broke the news.

"Your mother miscarried. Really, she's too old to try…" Vera sniffed.

"Stay out of this, Vera." Aunt Vespesia ordered. The teen flounced off to her room. "Young man, you will do well not to upset your poor parents with your gallivanting about." Her steely gaze fixed on the blond boy.

"Yes, aunt." _Accompanying Bridie wasn't gallivanting, was it?

* * *

_

As fall came, a grey pall fell over the Walshes. Virgil struggled through his lessons in the presence of Aunt Vespesia and Vera. His mother stayed in bed for many months. His father threw himself into his work once more. The piano in the Walsh apartment stayed silent. In the Ghetto, there were no flowers, fruit or snow to mark the passing of seasons but Virgil kept careful track of the days on his calendar.

Winter, then spring came and went. Summer came but Bridie did not return to Londinium. His Majesty had sent her on a tour of Rome. Autumn saw the birth of a sickly baby brother who did not live past three days. Unturned Methuselahs were almost as weak as Terrans. Winter and spring passed again with the royal family spending their Christmas and Easter away from Buckingham. Finally, summer came once again.

"Again?" Virgil exclaimed when he heard the news from his father. "Her Highness is spending her vacation abroad again? But she promised me… in the letter."

"Boy, grow up. She's the Crown princess, you are nothing," the Count dismissed him with a wave of a hand and poured out a stiff whisky. "Crown princesses do not have close friendships with the likes of us. Didn't your aunt teach you about the Great Persecution that almost wiped us out?"

"Surely, surely if we are all friends instead of enemies…" Virgil spoke cautiously.

"If they knew about us… it will be the Great Persecution all over again… If she forgets you, forget about her, son. It's less painful that way…" Count Victor lit his pipe and puffed idly.

Defeated, his son left the room. The Count watched him leave. He reached into his coat pocket and fished out the letter. The boy must not receive any more of those if he were to take on his proper role in life. Likewise for the princess.

_Dear Virgil, _

_Many apologies but I fear I must break my promise. My grandmother, the Grand Duchess Marie of Navarre, has taken ill and may be on her deathbed. I will go to her immediately…_

The flame from the pipe caught the paper almost instantly, reducing the neat handwriting into an illegible pile of ashes in the metal bin.

A few days later, a letter from Virgil expressing his condolences to Bridie on the death of her grandmother joined the ashes of her letter in the count's trash bin. Both teens wondered why the other had stopped writing.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

The letters have stopped after almost 2 years of not seeing each other. Count Victor has decided his son's infatuation has gone on for long enough. The pair will find a way somehow.

If you have read my Solitude piece for Virgil, Vanessa's not due to make her appearance yet. I am assuming that before the bacilli become active, unturned Methuselahs are just like Terrans.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

* * *

**7. My Fair Lady**

"Virgil, I want the G-Tech 7 chip test results by five o'clock. Have you sent the samples for the CAD semiconductors to Lab 5 yet?" Count Victor puffed on his pipe as he paced about his office overlooking the factory floor.

Virgil nodded in reply to his father's barrage of orders. He has started working in the factory as his father's assistant so as to familiarize himself with the workings of the Ghetto. Count Victor ran the factory with an iron fist and no exceptions were made for the fifteen-year-old intern. He still took lessons after work under Aunt Vespesia. He still lived with his aunt for much of the week. Vera was being groomed to be an upper-class wife for some nobleman, though Virgil wondered who their aunt had arranged to marry Vera off to.

"Sir, His Majesty…" a harried secretary cautiously peered into the office. "His Majesty is here to check on…"

Count Victor let loose a curse and threw on his coat. He put aside his pipe on the table, leaving an ugly scorch mark. "Come along, lad. We have no time to dally…"

The king greeted Count Virgil with a firm handshake before they adjourned to a nearby table for discussion. His Majesty looked as he always did, only with a little bit more white in his hair and beard. He wore the same overalls he was so fond of when visiting the Ghetto. Virgil let his eyes scan over the king's entourage. He noted that the secretary and guards accompanying the king were the same… His heart almost stopped. A gangly-limbed girl with pigtails stared back at him through blue eyes.

"Hello, Virgil."

* * *

An hour later, their fathers were still deep in discussion over some new computer chips for self-navigating cars. They silently slipped away from the factory to their secret place. For a long while they simply stood, looking out over the Ghetto while stealing guarded glances at each other. Crown Princess Bridget of Albion studied her companion. Virgil Walsh had gotten taller. His face had taken on a solemn look. He always was good-looking, even as a child. He had let his hair grow out and he now wore it in a thin pony-tail at the nape of his neck.

"Why didn't you write, Virgil?" she finally asked.

"I never stopped writing, Princess," Virgil hissed, biting back his anger. "Things have changed, haven't they…between us." He was painfully aware that despite her gangly, too-long limbs and too skinny body, she was blossoming into a young lady, a very beautiful one.

"Nothing has changed," Bridget replied. Without a word, she took his hand and slipped it around her waist. "Shall we?" There was no argument. Virgil let out a sigh and waltzed with her.

"You broke your promise. Father told me you went to France last summer," he added. "I'm sorry your grandmother's death ruined your vacation… I wrote you a letter then…"

"What do you mean? I only went to France because of that!" Anger flashed in her cerulean eyes. Then a smile tugged up the corners of her mouth. "I think we ought to talk to our fathers. Virgil, I want you to know this: you are very special to me." She kissed him on the cheek before he could protest.

"L-let's get back before they find out we're gone…" Virgil smattered, blushing furiously. Nothing had changed. Bridie was right. The letters resumed that autumn when Bridie returned to school.

* * *

"Victor…" The Countess of Manchester and Virgil's mother strolled over and placed a hand on her husband's. He acknowledged her with a grunt. He was exhausted after a long shift at the factory. The Countess sighed and snuggled up to him. "I've been speaking to Aunt Vespesia… do you suppose it's a mistake?"

Another grunt. Pressing on, the countess continued. "Vera dislikes Virgil…And Virgil… I don't think it will work…"

"Let them get wed as soon as the boy hits eighteen and let them work it out," her husband growled. "If they insist on being stubborn, Vespesia will talk sense into them." If he had his way, Virgil would have been properly wed, never mind the legal age. His foolish infatuation with the princess has gone on long enough. And Al better take his daughter in hand soon. Al. He never thought of His Majesty as Al since he ascended the throne. _Funny how things popped to mind._ Princess Bridget was every bit as stubborn as her father when he was that age…

The princess had insisted that Virgil escort her to her seventeenth birthday party. It was an unheard of privilege for a young man from the Ghetto to attend the princess' coming-of-age party. They must watch them carefully now since the princess has moved back to Buckingham to carry out her royal duties. With the increased threat from rogue factions and terrorists, it made sense for the royal family to surround their crown princess with the security only the palace could offer. Victor wondered if he should increase the number of guards in his factory and at the Ghetto entrances…

"Victor…"

"What is it now?" Annoyance crept into his voice.

"I went to the doctor… Victor, I'm with child…" Her words were drowned out by a kiss. "Now get some sleep for our son's sake," the count lovingly stroked his wife's barely swollen belly.

"Victor, what if it's a girl…"

"Nonsense, it will be a boy. No arguments about it."

* * *

_Engaged to Vera._Virgil tossed and turned in his bed. Aunt Vespesia broke the news to them the night after Bridie's birthday ball. Vera had screeched like a banshee and locked herself in her room. He was too stunned to react. Aunt Vespesia probably took his silence for consent and immediately launched into a lecture on marriage and its duties. On hindsight, they probably had it mapped out for them the moment they were thrown into Aunt Vespesia's care.

When he left his aunt's, Vera was muttering something about how she was going to turn the wedding into his funeral if he so much as touched her. In two months, Father would have to march him down to the registry to sign that piece of paper that would tie them both in holy matrimony. Aunt Vespesia would probably have Vera dragged there in chains. Vera had turned in spring while he had not. She was a lot stronger than him and if she really wanted to, she could easily kill him. His eighteenth birthday never seemed so threatening.

His thoughts drifted to Bridie. What a difference a few years made. The gangly teen was now a very beautiful young lady. He couldn't help feeling a little twinge of jealousy when the other noblemen asked her for a dance. She had to accept as court protocol dictated. She saved the last dance for him, on the balcony in the moonlight.

Virgil moaned. He was feeling exceptionally restless tonight. _Was he running a temperature? No, _his forehead was too cool for that. He also felt strangely thirsty despite having drunk a glass of water earlier.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

And will Virgil survive his engagement? Enter Vanessa? I think readers may have a inkling what's coming with Virgil's sudden discomfort.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

**8. Midsummer Night's Dream**

"Happy Birthday, Virgil. How are you feeling?" Princess Bridget asked over the phone. She hoped Virgil had recovered from whatever bug he caught. Going to the gala opening of the newly-renovated museum without him, she had somehow felt something was missing. "Virgil?" Unconsciously, her hand tightened on the receiver.

"I'm… fine," Virgil replied as he looked almost guiltily at the red liquid in his glass. "I'm sorry, Bridie. I can't go out with you in the daytime anymore."

"I know, Virgil. Papa explained it to me. But you can still go to the opera with me at night, can't you? And we have blood capsules you could take regularly to help…" Bridie prattled on. She sensed the guilt in his voice. "Nothing has changed between us, Virgil. Not even if you have turned…"

"Bridie," the newly-turned Methuselah took a deep breath. "I'm getting married…" The first few weeks were sheer hell for him. Virgil recalled being very sick and in a delirium. Grumpily, Count Victor had been forced to shelve his son's wedding plans until Virgil was through the worst of his turning. The brief reprieve would not last. His mother had just handed him the bracelet for his future wife earlier.

"Really?" Bridie's voice sounded flat. "Sorry, Bridie…" Virgil ran a hand through his hair. "Who's the lucky girl?" the princess forced herself to sound cheerful. _Why did Virgil sound so upset? Was he still ill? _

"Cousin Vera." Virgil had hardly seen his bride-to-be. She did not bother visiting him during his turning, though Aunt Vespesia called on his parents. His mother had been ill as well, but she was recovering. Maybe this time she would bear a healthy little brother and his father would be so pleased…

"Vera? I thought you couldn't get along with her."

"I can't, Bridie. But it's Father's idea I wed her. It's my duty. I can't say no…"

"I see," Bridie sighed. "Don't forget to invite me." She understood duty and obligations. _Poor Virgil.

* * *

_

"WHAT!?" Victor roared. Three days before the wedding and the worst possible thing had happened. The wife-to-be of the future Count of Manchester was with child. The catch? It wasn't Virgil's. Not when his son was bedridden with a fever from his awakening. A stern-lipped Vespesia waited patiently for the count to finish his ranting and cussing before continuing. "Are we done yet? It would be in the best interests of all for us to proceed with the wedding as soon as possible."

"And make a cuckold of my son?" Victor growled and advanced on the women. Shaking with fear, Vera cowered behind her guardian. Vespesia raised an arm protectively around the younger woman.

"Better than letting her condition progress to the point we can't hide it. Vera has been a most foolish child, but she'll look upon this as a sorely-learnt lesson. She'll serve your son as a dutiful wife should," the elder noblewoman continued. "The boy need not know. It has been done before. We'll keep this secret. Let him think the child his." It was the best way to save the Walsh name from becoming the laughingstock of town. The baby's real father's married. So marrying Vera off to him was out of the question. Also, he's probably clueless about the parting gift he left his lover. And he was unlikely to mention his fling to anyone, especially given Count Victor's notorious temper.

"What! If you want to wed my boy, you better be rid of that bastard in your belly!" Victor growled at Vera. "Victor! How could you even suggest that?" A staunch Catholic, the suggestion horrified Vespesia. "I'm not letting you bully her into killing the child. It's innocent." The downside was that Vera was facing a future with her unborn child as a single parent.

* * *

Part of him was relieved the wedding was off, permanently. Part of him felt sorry for his former fiancée. Something had happened between his father and aunt. He moved back to live with his parents and Aunt Vespesia stopped calling on them. She and her ward soon moved away, an arrangement by his father. Virgil never thought to question where they went. Not when his father has been working him hard in the factory, his mother's imminent delivery… and of course, Bridie.

In the darkened opera house, he reached over to hold her hand. Bridie smiled and squeezed back. She had managed to wriggle her way out of her royal duties for a night of leisure with her Virgil. _Her Virgil?_ She smiled sadly. It would only be a matter of time before their fathers find a suitable match for them. On stage, a princess and her knight were wed. _Lohengrin._ She was familiar with the opera, having seen it before with her father in Paris.

The wedding chorus was, to Bridie at least, strangely foreboding. Virgil was not familiar with the story. She touched the rose Virgil had given her. In silence, they watched the opera play out to its dramatic and tragic finale.

"Some knight of the Grail. The poor lady," Virgil remarked as the singers bowed and the curtain fell. "Will you ever break a lady's heart like that, my knight?" Bridie teased as they left the box. Virgil flushed beet-red. What happened with Vera was so embarrassing his father made them vow not to speak of it to outsiders. Noticing his discomfort, she hurriedly added. "I know you wouldn't."

"Bridie, I will never do anything to hurt you," Virgil spluttered. They were almost down the grand staircase. Bridie smiled. "Virgil, can you keep a secret? It's very important."

"I will keep it to the grave," Virgil's heart pounded in his chest. Bridie hurriedly pulled him into the waiting coach. "My dear knight, I do believe I am in love," Bridie whispered into his ear. Virgil went cold then hot as the blood rose to his cheeks. The princess kissed him on the cheek. The merest peck, much like those she had given him in the past, but something has changed.

"I think I'm in love with you…" she purred.

"Bridie … I love you too…" _They really shouldn't…_ Logic urged restraint but their teenage instincts were urging otherwise. Her waist felt so tiny when he took her into his arms. She's so warm. Smilingly, Bridie laid her head against his shoulder. "Bridie… your highness, we really shouldn't." It took tremendous effort on his part to say those words.

"I'm sorry, Virgil. I know we shouldn't. We couldn't," Bridie sighed and moved away from him. For a while they sat, facing each other and catching their breaths and composing themselves. It was Bridie who broke the silence. "I'm sorry, Virgil, I do believe we're drunk," she giggled nervously and fanned herself with her sandalwood fan.

"Yes, Bridie," Virgil adjusted his cravat. They hadn't touched any wine at all. "I'll drive back to the palace, before it gets too late." It was just a midsummer night's dream they had while awake.

* * *

_It has been done before…_ Vespesia's words haunted him. Count Victor took a swig of his whiskey. Camilla was his second wife. His first marriage ended childless with his wife's suicide. It had lasted nearly a century and the only reason it had lasted that long was because his father refused to hear of a divorce. It was probably despair that drove his former wife (whose name he has long forgotten) to take her life. The ensuing scandal of suicide sent the then-Count into a spiral from which he never recovered.

Camilla was a good two hundred years his junior. She had many suitors when he was courting her. Virgil was born soon after their marriage. A seven-months child so the midwife said. The count studied the photo album in his lap with suspicion. The boy took after Camilla. There was hardly any physical resemblance to him.

Never mind. That boy would not inherit. His soon-to-be born son would. A cuckoo's egg or not, Virgil has proven to be a disappointment. No son of his would get himself so hopelessly entangled in a forbidden romance that was doomed from the start. At least he could count himself lucky Virgil was too decent (or gutless) to proposition the princess or make use of her infatuation.

_What should he name his second son? Valence? Verne? Maybe Vanessa… Wait, that's a girl's name. He must be getting drunk… even though Methuselahs don't get drunk that easy… _The emptied whiskey bottle joined its discarded fellows on the floor.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Poor Virgil's engagement has been broken. I don't think Vera or Aunt Vespesia will be showing up at the Count's place anymore. Near make-out scene in the coach (in front of the opera house too). The Walsh family isn't going to be very happy.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

Enter Vanessa Walsh

* * *

**9. Poor Little Rich Girl **

"Congratulations, Sir Victor! You have a bouncing baby daughter!"

"SAY WHAT!?" The bellow shook the hospital to its foundations. Judging by Count Victor's reaction, one would have thought the doctor made a grievous blunder.

Eighteen years after his birth, Virgil was confronted by his newborn sister. She had black hair and eyes like the Count. The siblings were as like as chalk and cheese. From their mother's arms, the sister looked at him solemnly before crinkling her little face and shrilling her tiny lungs out. "Shut that creature up!" Victor bellowed. "Victor! She's our daughter!" His wife retorted even as she tried to soothe the baby.

"Her wailing's giving me a migraine. What kind of mother are you?" The quarrel escalated until the Count stormed out of the ward.

* * *

The baby girl was christened Vanessa Walsh. The name was reluctantly given to her by the count over the phone. Vanessa proved to be a colicky baby, often rousing the household from sleep with loud screams. The Count grew more short-tempered and spent more time away. He made no secret of his dislike for the new baby. The hassle of caring for a difficult baby took its toil on the Walsh household.

"Try music, Virgil. My nurse said babies like music," Bridie suggested. Virgil felt silly playing the piano while his sister lay looking at him solemnly from her carry-basket on the piano bench next to him. He started playing _For Elise._ Vanessa gurgled with delight and waved her baby arms… Halfway through _Home Sweet Home_, she dozed off. Virgil sighed. Trouble was brewing. His parents have grown distant once more. This time, Aunt Vespesia was not around to play peacemaker. Virgil's worries were not unfounded.

* * *

"That man wants a divorce?!" Camilla Walsh shrilled. Muttering angrily, she thrust the two-month-old infant at her son, grabbed her hat and purse and blustered out to confront the Count in the factory. Little Vanessa shrilled her protest. Virgil rocked his sister and sat down on the piano bench. With all the trouble recently, he had not seen Bridie.

* * *

"Sir! There's an anomaly in vessel C143. Temperature and pressure soaring off the charts!" A panicked technician blundered into the office. He was greeted by the sight of the Count and Countess squabbling.

"Sir! This ain't time for domestic spats!" he screamed. Warning sirens sounded, finally getting the attention of the couple. It was too late. The blast that ripped through the factory shook the Ghetto and registered on the Albionian University's seismographs as a magnitude 5 earthquake.

* * *

Though they were a good distance from the factory, the blast shattered the windows, showering Virgil and Vanessa with glass splinters. Instinctively, Virgil shielded his tiny sibling from the deadly shrapnel. Pain assailed him as numerous splinters stabbed into his flesh. He passed out as they fell off the bench…

* * *

"Lord have mercy," the rescuer murmured as he took in the bloodied and mangled remains they excruciated from the smouldering ruins of the Ghetto's main factory. Both the count and countess were dead, along with fifty or so technicians, engineers and factory staff. Scores of civilians were also caught by the blast. Mercifully, the secondary factories in the East and North Sectors have been spared. With luck, they could be running up to production with the aid of the survivors.

* * *

"Vanessa!" Virgil screamed and sat up in his hospital bed.

"Mortimer, where's my sister, Vanessa?" he recognized their former butler. The elderly Methuselah rubbed his eyes as he roused himself from his chair by the bedside.

"The little mite's unhurt, Master Virgil," he reassured Virgil. "Careful, now. They removed about twenty or so glass pieces from you earlier. Someone's here to see you…" Mortimer stepped aside…

"Bridie?" The princess cradled the newly-orphaned baby tenderly. "Not a scratch. She's got an angel watching out for her, Virgil. I came as soon as I heard of the blast."

"Father and Mother?" Virgil asked, hoping against hope. His worst fears were soon confirmed.

* * *

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. From the dust we were born, to dust we will return…" The Ghetto's chaplain droned on monotonously. Vanessa slept on. Pale-faced, Virgil Walsh watched with disbelieving eyes and unshed tears as the closed coffins bearing their parents were finally wheeled on the short journey to the crematorium. When the service was over, various members of the Ghetto community came forward to offer their condolences to the orphans. Vanessa opened her dark eyes and bawled. 

"She's hungry, I expect…" speaking to no one in particular, Virgil took out the still-warm baby bottle from the thermos. Baby Vanessa screeched and choked on the milk. Finally, a matronly woman offered to help the beleaguered young man. Dazed, Virgil seized this opportunity to slip off to the side chapel of the Ghetto church. His thoughts whirled in confusion. He was Count of Manchester, even though his father tried to disinherit him in a drunken state some days before the birth of his sister. King Albert of Albion has made it official. He was now Sir Virgil Walsh, Count of Manchester. Like it or not, they looked to him to restore the Ghetto after the devastating blast.

The chief engineer, who had survived the blast, had reassured him that given the expertise available, the factories would be up and running to capacity in three months. _Yet…_ Trembling, he sank to his knees before the statue of the Blessed Virgin and Child. _What did he know about negotiating the murky world of court politics above? What did he know about managing a town like the Ghetto? To top it, what did he know about bringing up his orphaned sister? Maybe it would've been better if he had been killed instead… _

He cried like a little boy. Count Victor's shoes were way too large for an eighteen-year-old to fill.

_Warmth. Warm arms around him. The faintest hint of rosewater on English lace. Red hair. Soft blue eyes… _He couldn't recall anymore…

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Poor Virgil. Bridie needs to give him a hug or two. I just orphaned Virgil and his baby sister.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

The potential for romance between Virgil and Bridie is high but their respective duties will definitely stop them from tsking the plunge into the good old tunnel of love.

* * *

**10. Guardian Angel**

When he next came to his senses, Virgil found himself lying in a Ghetto hospital bed. "What happened?" he sat up groggily. The room was antiseptic-clean. The walls were bare whitewash. The first person he noticed was the old butler.

"Nervous breakdown," Mortimer answered. "Easy now…" He helped the young man sit up so that Virgil could see the other occupant. Bridie was there. She was looking at him worriedly. She got up from her chair and walked towards him.

"I'm sorry, Bridie… I can't…" Virgil clutched at the blanket. "I'm not my father… I can't be Count…" he bent his head, unable to face her. The princess took his hand in hers and bent down so her brow rested on their hands..

"I am counting on you, Virgil. Please be strong, my guardian of the Ghetto. Albion cannot do without the Ghetto's knowledge."

"I can't…" _What did __he__ know about managing the lives of all the Ghetto-dwellers and the politics with those Above?_

"I have faith in you. Trust me, Virgil," she added softly. Then she added loudly. "I'm sure there are those in the Ghetto who will help guide you along, like the council." Mortimer nodded at her words. Then Virgil recalled his sister.

"Where's Vanessa?"

"The wee mite? The Ghetto Council decided they will take care of Miss Vanessa in light of your breakdown. Don't you fret, Master Virgil. She's in good hands at the children's home."

* * *

As he recovered, Virgil learnt to negotiate the complexities of running the Ghetto. The production and rebuilding of factories were easy compared to the endless negotiations with Westminster Above. King Albert and Bridie were always ready to give him a hand but Virgil was well aware of the hostility his kind faced in Westminster. He was so caught up in his work that he rarely had time to go watch a play or play his piano. Mortimer, who had returned to the Walsh home as butler, often found his master at his writing table, asleep over his documents. The old man would simply shake his head and throw a blanket over Virgil's shoulders.

A year flew by swiftly.

"Master Virgil," Mortimer finally broke his silence one day as he watched Virgil calculate the Ghetto's projected budget with his right had while wolfing down a sandwich with his free hand. "Sir, Miss Vanessa's birthday was last month… Would it be alright for you to visit the little mite?" The half-eaten sandwich fell out of Virgil's hand with a soft groan. He had all but forgotten about little Vanessa. "Are you feeling well? We still need to eat and sleep," Mortimer wiped up the mess. "You need a rest, Sir, if you don't mind me saying."

"I can't. There's the meeting about the new computer chip line… Oh my, I'm running late!" Virgil exclaimed when he saw the clock. He excused himself, threw on his coat and stuffed the papers he was working on into his briefcase. He then hurried off to the factory.

Still, he stopped by the store later and dropped by the Ghetto Children's Home. The matron was very surprised to see him. Still she invited him in for a cup of tea. After all, hadn't the Count been paying a modest but tidy sum to the upkeep of the Home? "I'll fetch Vanessa. They've just put her to bed…" she clucked.

"No need to disturb her. I'm not staying long. Here's a dress for her birthday…" Virgil fidgeted uncomfortably and handed the baby dress to the matron. The matron gasped. "Oh my, it is very nice, but she has grown so much… she'll never fit into that."

"Oh," Virgil was disappointed. He had no time to get another present for Vanessa. "Never mind, we'll return it for a bigger size," the matron added.

In the end, the store did not have any bigger dresses. Being a sensible woman, the matron exchanged the dress for a pair of mittens and a scarf for the young Count's baby sister.

* * *

King Albert's health was slowly failing. It was no longer possible for him to come to the Ghetto as often as he used to. Instead, it was the princess who often made the trips to the underground town. Virgil often found himself and the Ghetto's council of elders discussing work with Bridie. Her presence simply lit up the room and made the meetings more tolerable for Virgil.

Everyone in the Ghetto council of elders spoke of a guardian angel watching over their young leader. That angel was the princess. Their feelings were mixed. The princess was a strong ally for the young Count to have. Many expressed unease at the apparent closeness between the pair. The way their hands sometimes touched while they were discussing important matters concerning the Ghetto, the looks and smiles they shared had the elders shaking their heads. Thankfully, the count and princess were sensible enough to keep their relationship from blossoming into love, confining it to the safer waters of deep platonic friendship, so the elders thought.

They need not know how the pair often slipped off after the meetings to their special place. Nothing too scandalous, only a heart-to-heart talk between friends. Sometimes, Bridget might touch Virgil's cheek with a fingertip, or Virgil might plant a chaste kiss on Birdie's hand.

"How's His Majesty?" Virgil asked. Bridie leaned back against him. "He is feeling better. It's a slight touch of the flu," she replied. "How's your sister?"

"She is growing up. I have not seen her for a while."

"You should visit her sometime, Virgil. She might be lonely, even if she's with a group of other kids… you are family after all."

"She's always asleep when I go over to the Home, thanks to the new pharmaceutics venture. It takes up an awful lot of time … Still, it would be good for us to diversify, like you suggested …" He closed his eyes with a sigh. "Thanks for being there for me, Bridie. I'll never be able to run the place without your help. "

"Don't be silly, Virgil. You did most of the work. My father's birthday is coming up soon. Would you come, please?"

"Why?" Virgil sat up so suddenly, Bridie was caught off balance. She tumbled onto the floor in a mass of skirts and giggles. "Because it will be a good chance for you to meet people Above. You will need to know people." Bridie's tutors and father had educated her on the importance of those cocktail parties for social networking and she was surprised at Virgil's ignorance.

"But Bridie… I don't know anything about speaking to important people…" he helped her up.

"Virgil, just treat it like, well…. Remember my birthday ball? We'll dance and chat, and have a good time. Leave the introductions and speaking to me."

"Bridie, I can't do that! You've helped me too much…"

"You're not coming for nothing, Virgil. If any potential suitor gets too friendly with me, I want you to rip off his head off."

"Bridie!" Bridie laughed at the shocked expression on Virgil's face.

"Just kidding, but I would like to have someone to help fend off those suitors they keep trying to introduce to me." She winked mischievously. "Shall we dance, my knight?"

* * *

Virgil dropped by the children's home. As usual, his sister was asleep. Still, he asked the matron to allow him into the dormitory to see her. Vanessa shared her dorm with about a dozen other children, many of whom were similarly orphaned by the explosion. Virgil tiptoed into the dorm, to the cot at the far end. His Methuselah sight allowed him a glimpse of his sister's tiny form tangled up in the blankets despite the pitch darkness. Vanessa was a healthy two-year-old toddler with a cherubic face framed and soft black hair. She looked so blissful in sleep. Virgil was satisfied all was well with his sister. He then left as silently as he came.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

Virgil is setting himself up for future trouble with baby sister Vanessa. And Virgil to attend a ball with Bridie?


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

**11. Little Women**

The days flew by. It was clear that Princess Bridget would soon succeed her father given his failing health. In fact, the king was content to turn over the reins of powers, with close supervision from his trusted ministers, to the princess. Princess Bridget graduated with a respectable degree in diplomatic relations from the Albion University. Virgil sighed and leaned back in his chair. Bridget was good at that. She had helped him forge an agreement to provide computer chips to the Albion airship industry, paving the way for the Ghetto's venture into technology.

There were other things bothering him. Bridie was now in her twenty-third year and the councillors were keen that she married suitably. Marriage proposals came from royal houses the length and breadth of Western Europe. Bridget politely but firmly turned them down. "I'm sorry but I can't think of marriage yet," she would always say with a smile to her ministers and suitors. Her remarks were more candid around Virgil.

"Philip doesn't speak a word of English and he expects me to merge Albion with Hispania as he's the Crown Prince," Bridie made a face as they watched the Spanish envoy leave through the palace gate. "Cousin Michal is a man of too many affairs. Lord knows how many mistresses he has housed in Paris alone." She unceremoniously dumped a bouquet of roses into the wastebasket. Virgil nodded in agreement. The Marquis of Calais' affairs have reached his ears through the society gossip at the balls he escorted Bridie to. "And the Duke of Normandy, he's a sweet gentleman but he's old enough to be my grandfather! Who suggested I marry him?"

"That would be Baron Cedric of the Fisheries Ministry… He reasons that since the duke is fond of you like an uncle, he would take care of you," Virgil replied. "Bridie, those proposals are not drying up until you get married, you know. What kind of husband are you looking for?"

"Someone responsible, trustworthy…." Bridie mused. "Someone like you," she stroked his cheek with a slender finger. Virgil's heart skipped a beat as their eyes met… "Shall we get back to the new trade proposal with Rome?" Virgil hurriedly shuffled his stack of papers. A few drifted to the carpet.

"Yes," Bridie bent down to help him retrieve the scattered papers. They both knew it was impossible between them. "Virgil, which one of us will get married first?" Bridie asked. "Have they found some young lady for you after Vera let? I would like to be godmother to your kids."

"I'm living out of my office. I have no time for dates or courting…" Virgil laughed and rearranged the papers in order

"Shall I give you some time off?"

"No thanks, we have to finalize the trade agreement… Is the trade minister outside? He should be informed for the final negotiations in Rome." They quickly turned the conversation to the trade negotiations.

* * *

The children's home in the Ghetto was increasingly crowded as many parents found it more convenient to leave their children there while they slogged away. Many were lucky if they saw their parents once a month. Young Vanessa was an active child, a bright child. She was raised in an overcrowded institute staffed by overworked nurses. When she turned seven, she would be sent to the Ghetto's only public school like her peers. It was unlikely a governess would be found for her.

As with any group of children of varying strengths, there was a bully in Vanessa's dorm. Six-year-old Amanda Barlow was a large-built girl who liked nothing better than picking on the smaller girls. Five-year-old Vanessa had been moved to Amanda's dorm to make space for more toddlers. Then the bully made the mistake of emptying a jar of paint onto the raven hair of Vanessa Walsh…

"Sir Virgil… I'm Kristie from the Children's Home…" Virgil sat up. Mortimer kept his face poker-straight, but Virgil suspected he may already have spoken with the nurse on the phone. "Is Vanessa sick?" Virgil asked.

"No, she…" Virgil groaned as the nurse continued. He really didn't need this.

* * *

"Who are you?" Rebellious dark eyes glared at him. Her hair was clean and wet from a shower to remove the paint. She scowled at her brother. A bruise was appearing on her cheek. Vanessa had reacted fiercely to bullying. Only the timely intervention of three staff members prevented either bully or victim from further hurt. Still, Amanda had been sent to the hospital for observation after Vanessa smashed a baseball bat on her head. They now stood in the infirmary with a feverish child and a boy having his elbow attended to by the matron. It struck the count how overcrowded and understaffed the place was.

"Vanessa, as your brother, I am very disappointed in you," Virgil tried to be firm. Vanessa frowned. "You are my brother?" The dress she was wearing was paint-splattered, patched in many places and much too small for her. "Why are you barefoot?" Virgil noticed that the little girl was hopping about on the bare tiles. "No shoes that fit," the matron explained tiredly. "We have boots for all the children but Vanessa complains hers pinch."

"They do too!" Vanessa retorted.

"We always get them new boots at Christmas…" the matron continued. "-but we can get Vanessa hers sooner…"

Virgil made a mental note to review the welfare system. The degree of neglect was shocking. Vanessa must be educated properly. He decided there and then to bring Vanessa home and find a governess for her. Virgil groaned. He had too many tasks to see to. Put out an ad for a governess, a nursemaid… but first, his sister needed proper shoes. Maybe he could bring her out to the stores, if he could find the time to.

"We don't look alike," Vanessa observed as she dried her hair with a flannel towel. "Ain't we brother and sister?" She pulled herself onto a bed. The matron set about combing and braiding her raven hair in twin plaits.

"I will be bringing her home," Virgil announced. Vanessa gave a little gasp of surprise. "Home? I'm home, ain't I?"

"No, Vanessa. I mean your real home, with me," Virgil clarified. "You'll have your own room and toys… Maybe we can get some nice frocks for you…"

"NO! Nessa's home is here!" Vanessa howled. "I ain't leaving! My friends are here! I don't know you!" She kicked him in the shin, screeched a few assorted curses for good measure before scampering out of the infirmary. Virgil shook his head. Five years had turned the howling baby he once held in his arms to a veritable foul-mouthed little savage. He had to find a proper governess to undertake Vanessa's education.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

Vanessa's a little bundle of merry sunshine isn't she? Now you know how estranged the siblings are. Vanessa's upbringing is going to be very, very different from that of her brother.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

**12. Little Rascal**

"Sir Virgil, forgive me for saying this, but Lady Vanessa is an incorrigible student. I am quitting as of this moment!"

"Miss Clara, would you please reconsider…" Virgil tried to no avail. Miss Clara stomped out of the Walsh apartment dripping wet. The bucket of water Vanessa had emptied on the tutor's head was the last straw in a series of childish pranks. Virgil groaned. He really didn't need this. His sister had driven away a good dozen tutors, governesses and nannies. Only good old Mortimer would put up with her pranks, and only thanks to his loyalty to the family.

"Methinks the child needs a good spanking. Spare the rod and spoil the child." The butler poured the count a double whisky.

"But I can't spank a girl," Virgil protested. The count turned his attention to the Ghetto documents. The butler shrugged. It was not his place to interfere in the family's discipline. Virgil took out his fountain pen and put nib to paper. The weakened nib snapped and ink splattered over the latest chip plant plans. The count looked at the remaining fountain pens he always kept in a metal case on his table. All the nibs had been half-sawed through. _Vanessa._

Salt in the sugar bowl, missing socks… Two years spent trying to civilize his kid sister had yielded no results. Maybe it was time to take a firm stand on things. Maybe a whack on the palm of the hand would suffice. Bridie had told him once that the teachers at her exclusive college meted out discipline in this manner on wayward students.

"Vanessa! Come down here," Virgil ordered. No reply.

"Vanessa!" he called again. Not a peep. He climbed up the stairs to her bedroom. The door was ajar but no one was inside. Only the lacy pinafore frock she had wore earlier lay on the floor in a heap. "Mortimer, have you seen Vanessa?" he asked the butler. Mortimer shook his head. Then he noticed the front door was open. "Vanessa!"

"Have you found Lady Vanessa?" Virgil barked furiously over his communicator. "No? Search Sector 7." Operations in the Ghetto's factory were running on a skeleton staff as all available workers have been pressed into the search for Lady Vanessa. The count was frantic with worry. A quick search of the residential sector proved fruitless. The industrial sectors and uninhabited sectors were no place for a seven-year-old child to be. Virgil switched off his communicator and picked up the phone.

"Bridie, I'm sorry. I'm unable to meet you later," Virgil apologized to the princess. They would have to reschedule the meeting about the trade negotiations with Germanius. "What happened, Virgil?" Bridget picked up the panic in his voice.

"My sister is missing. I have the workers looking everywhere… the tunnels, the factory…"

There was a pause before the princess continued. "Have you tried looking at our special place?"

* * *

Virgil let out an involuntary sigh of relief when he saw his sister there in their secret place. He did not know how she found out about this place but it did not matter as long as she was safe. She was perched at the very edge of the precipice overlooking the town. She had on a grimy-looking messenger boy's uniform. Her hair was crammed under the cap.

"Vanessa, Get back here this instant! It is dangerous!" His sister's legs were dangling over the edge. To his alarm, a loose piece of rock next to her crumbled into the void

"No!" Vanessa yelled back. "I like it here…"

"Vanessa Walsh! As your brother, I order you to get back here immediately!"

"No, and you can't make me!" Vanessa shouted back. "Then I shall have to come get you, then." _This was going to be undignified…_ Virgil thought as he shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves and pant legs. Carefully, he crawled on all fours towards the child. Vanessa was humming and staring distractedly into space. He seized her by the shoulder, startling the child. Vanessa let out a piercing shriek and slipped, right off the ledge.

"VANESSA!" Virgil lunged after her into the void. The rush of wind buffeted them. They were falling. The Count grabbed his sister and cradled her in his arms the best he could. Perhaps he could shield her from injury, like he did seven years ago… The pain was terrible when his body hit the canvas and steel awning below.

"Virgil? Virgil! Don't dare you die on me! This is an order!" someone was shaking him. His body was one mass of agony. Virgil guessed the fall must have smashed bones and ruptured internal organs. To his relief, he could hear his sister's screaming. _At least she was alive…_ He forced his eyes open. A pale face with a halo of red hair looked into his. Bridie… he tried to speak but the blood filling his mouth made it difficult. He coughed and spluttered.

"Count, Lady Vanessa is safe…" his loyal butler's voice drifted in. "Not a scratch…" The old man probably had his sister bundled up safely. "Hang in there, the rescuers are on their way…" Bridie urged.

It was clear Virgil was in bad shape. _If he hadn't been Methuselah…_ The Crown Princess gazed down on her best friend. His injuries were extensive. More alarmingly, he had lost a shocking amount of blood. There was a gaping wound in his thigh where a twisted piece of steel ripped through it. Another had ripped open his side. It had been instinct that took her back to the Ghetto and forced her to seek out the Walsh household. Instinct brought her and the butler here just in time to witness Virgil's unfortunate tumble. That same feeling told her that she needed to act before her friend died.

_Cold,_ Virgil knew that blood loss was starting to affect him. His body was not healing the way it should. The bacilli in his blood were ravenous but he did not have the strength or ability to replenish the loss. His vision was dimming when something warm dripped onto his lips. _Fresh blood._ Instinctively, he licked his lips, drawing the scant nutrients in. His vision cleared. "Bridie?" he croaked.

"Hush. Hush and drink. Promise you wouldn't die on me…" Bridie whispered. Blood ran down her forearm and off her fingertips from where she had slashed her arm.

"No, it's dangerous… get away from me…" Virgil moaned as he felt the bacilli stirring in his veins. "I cannot control…"

"You can and you will. I trust you, Virgil…" Bridie said.

Virgil nodded, forcing the bacilli into silence. Cautiously, he licked at the red drops that fell onto his lips. It was sufficient to keep him conscious until the rescuers arrived.

* * *

"I owe you one, Bridie," the count whispered. "But I really should go over to…" Bridie smiled. His butler, Mortimer, slumped in his armchair, possibly asleep. Little Vanessa had been given a clean bill of health and was hopefully in her room. Virgil had adamantly refused to be hospitalized. He needed to be running the factories, from his bed if need be. Now, he was sitting in his bed at Bridie's and Mortimer's insistence. Matters of the Ghetto were cast aside for a while.

"Oh, my Guardian of the Ghetto, can you set those matters aside for a while? I was so worried, Virgil… I can't bear to lose you…" the princess hugged the count. "My father, His Majesty… the doctors don't expect him to live another year…"

Gingerly, he returned her embrace, fully aware of the tumultuous emotions coursing through him. "Virgil, I'm to be engaged…"

"Who's he?"

"Duke Gilbert II of Edinburgh, and my second cousin. The one who loves his fishing and is about as interesting as the fish he catches…"

"He is a man of few vices, besides his obsession with trout-fishing and being a bore… It's your decision, Bridget… I will stand… " Virgil remarked and froze. He saw a wide-eyed child in the doorway of his room and was painfully aware of Bridget in his arms. The little girl blinked her black-button eyes and rubbed them. The little teddy bear she was holding dropped onto the carpet.

"Gosh! I never thought you would actually have a girlfriend! Wait till I tell Patsy and the others!" Vanessa squealed innocently. "VANESSA! It's not what it seems!" Virgil yelled and bolted after the little rascal. The scandal would probably kill the King before his illness did.

* * *

"I don't get it, Brother…" Vanessa pouted over her fish. "You like her, she likes you. Why can't you get hitched like in the fairy tales?"

"Because real life is not like a fairy-tale… Besides, we are just friends…" Virgil replied. He had been dreading this, the talk that would eventually come for all Ghetto parents and guardians. His father had been frank about it from the start, drilling into Virgil the notion of the Above and the Ghetto and telling him to be thankful of their privilege to exist underground. He guessed Mortimer and the assorted governesses never got round to telling Vanessa about that aspect yet.

"It ain't fair. Just because she's from Above and we are Methuselah, doesn't mean you can't be together… Besides, you are not just 'friends' friends, right?" Vanessa said. "She did save your life…"

"We are just friends…" Virgil picked at his peas.

"You are a poor liar, Brother. And it isn't fair, you know it too." Vanessa dug into her pudding with gusto. Virgil decided to get some books on technology and science for his sister. Some on the history of Albion and the Ghetto would be good too. It was time to wean her off those fairytales. The prospect of Bridie's wedding did not appeal to Virgil at all. Duke Gilbert was not very bright and Bridget would probably have to run the Cabinet herself. The King's illness threatened the monarchy. Succession could be messy. And it could happen soon.

**Author's Notes:**

I'm back after a long hiatus. Vanessa is a little imp, isn't she? Just wait till she hits puberty… Just got hold of the Trinity Blood manga. Whoa! Sara (Suleyman's niece) and Black Widow Monica make their appearance in Vols 8 and 9. And Isaac Butler and Reiz... No wonder I am inspired to coninue with my fics here. Stay tuned.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

Is anyone reading this still? Should there be more spice between Bridget and Virgil? Vanessa is a good deal sharper than Virgil gives her credit for.

**13. God Save the King**

It was close to midnight in the Ghetto and Virgil was preparing for bed when his butler knocked on his door. "Sir Virgil," Mortimer was ashen when he passed him the phone. It was Bridie and she was in tears. The thing they had dreaded had happened. The king was dead. Long live the King.

"Where are you going?" Vanessa asked curiously as she watched her brother pull on his socks. She stood at the open door, a glass of water in hand. The white nightgown she wore ended well above her knees. Virgil made a mental note to get her a new nightgown. He didn't know little girls grew up that fast. "Is it work? Breakdown or summat?" she lapsed into the cockney accent she had picked up in the children's home.

"Go to bed, Vanessa."

She only stood and watched as the butler brought Virgil his best shoes, the pair he used only when he was going Above. "Now, Vanessa," he insisted. She had school to attend to in the morning.

"Come on, Miss," the butler took her hand and led her off. Vanessa's dark eyes followed her brother as he stepped out of their apartment.

* * *

"This way, Sir," the young guardsman was waiting for him at the other end of the tunnel. Virgil recalled his name was Spencer. The teen had a bad case of acne, mousy brown hair and his voice hovered on breaking. Virgil guessed he was only fifteen or so. Bridie must trust him a lot or be too distraught to entrust a more senior guard with this job. Virgil glanced up and down the corridor. Maids had discreetly draped clothes over the mirrors, a sign of a house in mourning. The drapes were drawn along the corridor.

The Crown Princess, soon-to-be Queen, was in her bedroom. She wore a hastily-donned dressing gown over her nightclothes. Her lovely red hair was tousled. The news must have been just as sudden for her. The guardsman looked away when the princess threw her arms around the count. Virgil gasped, taken aback by her sudden move. The guardsman awkwardly excused himself and scurried out, closing the door behind him.

"Bridie…" Virgil felt dampness on his shoulder. Bridie was crying. Gingerly, he allowed his arms to enfold her. Sobs wracked her body as he held her close to his chest.

"Whassat?" A bright flash suddenly drew his attention. To his horror, he realised that the room's drapes had mistakenly be left open and the princess' bedroom overlooked the street, where about half of the reporters in Londonium were camping. The other half were outside the Royal Londonium Hospital where the late king's body lay awaiting embalming. Clearly, some enterprising reporter had chanced on the activity in their window.

_Oh damn…_ Virgil and Bridie hurriedly pulled away, both red-faced and embarrassed. The damage was already done.

* * *

"Virgil Walsh, the Council of Elders wish to speak with you, _urgently_…" Virgil's heart sank when he heard that almost forgotten voice on the phone. _Aunt Vespesia._ For a moment, he was transformed into the scared young boy who did his lessons under her eagle eyes. "Yes, ma'am," he replied. He hung up and called his butler to prepare his clothes and cancel his meetings for the day. The council was there to guide him in running the Ghetto. They hardly interfered in his business, but this was different. He could easily guess what this special meeting was about.

"Virgil and Bridget sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" Vanessa skipped by, reciting a jump-rope rhyme. Virgil groaned. "Cut it out, Vanessa." The little girl paused in mid-rhyme and nonchalantly thrust the morning paper under his nose. On the front page was a grainy photo of the princess and a young blond man locked in embrace as seen through a palace window. _Princess' mystery beau?_ The headlines screamed. The king's death was relegated to page 2. Virgil really dreaded that special meeting now.

* * *

The same issue of the paper hit the wall of the Park Lane apartment where the princess and her guardians were preparing for the funeral. A pale-faced maid scrambled to gather up the pages and scurried out like a frightened mouse. The Duchess of Kent's temper was legendary.

"Princess, this is preposterous! This is slander! This is…" The Duchess of Kent shrieked. "Mindless speculation," the princess dismissed. She was dressed in mourning. Her aunt threw up her hands in resignation and stalked out. "But my dear child!" the Duke declared. "The people cannot do without a king. This headline is a sign of the people's opinion…" The duke was a savvy politician well-attuned to the people's needs and opinions. Bridie had long treasured him as an advisor.

"It is too soon, Father is not even buried yet," Bridget tied on her black bonnet with its silk ribbons.

"Of course, a decent period of mourning… maybe six months to a year would be proper. Then marry Edinburgh. Sorry, princess, but you are already in your mid-twenties. Most noble ladies are married by your age with one or two babies in arms," the duke stated matter-of-factly. Seeing the frown on his charge's face, he added. "Of course, we would try to hush this one up. Reporters can be a bother at times, but such is the price of being a leader. Luckily, the Count of Manchester is not too well-known outside the noble circles."

"Will he get into trouble?" Bridget asked quietly. "He was just lending me a shoulder to cry on… before you came back from Paris…"

"I understand, princess. But as to the count, it will be up to the Ghetto's Council of Elders. Why don't we get going to the church now…" the duke straightened his collar and offered a hand to the princess. Bridget took it in her black-gloved hand. She prayed that Virgil would not get into too much trouble.

**Author's Notes: **

The paparazzi got a huge scoop this time. Virgil's in hot soup now.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

This has gone on far enough. I don't want to drag it out any further. So this is the last chapter of my fic.

**14. Rose Waltz**

He had not seen nor spoken to Bridget for a long time, at least not without a chaperone in the form of Aunt Vespesia or one of the elders. The new queen had lived up to the expectations of her subjects, proving herself capable of ruling over the kingdom. There was one other duty she had to fulfil. The first step to that was a suitable marriage. That marriage was going to happen tomorrow. A year and a half had lapsed since the funeral and the kingdom was eager for their young queen to be wed.

Even in the Ghetto, the excitement stirred under the monotony of machinery and activity. Vanessa noticed her brother stayed up late, although he came home sooner from work. Often, Mortimer brought him his meals in his room or at the piano. Vanessa often fell asleep listening to the faint strains of music he coaxed from the ivories.

On the two nights before the scheduled wedding, Virgil finally completed the programming of the music box. It was an exquisite piece of workmanship. The lid was engraved with the Albionian rose and it boasted a double tray for Bridget's jewellery and a repertoire of piano melodies beloved by their queen.

Pleased, he careful placed the gift in its box. He would get one of the elders to pass it to her through the Duke of Kent…

"Brother, you really like-her like her, don't you?" Virgil almost dropped the music box. It was Vanessa. The little girl stood at the threshold of the room. There was something in her eyes and tone that hinted that she was no longer a child and would not tolerate being treated like one. Yet she was still a ten-year-old girl, not yet turned.

"Vanessa, it's two a.m. in the morning. Go back to bed…" Virgil chided. He was tired and had no energy for this.

"I don't get it. She likes you, you like her and why are you just sitting here letting her marry that boring duke from up north? Why can't you two get married?" Vanessa blurted out.

"Vanessa, look, we have been through this already. Bridie and I are just good friends…"

"Liar. You have been slaving over that music box for the last month but you are not going to give it to her directly, aren't you? You intend to get Aunt Vespesia or someone else to pass it to her, am I right? You are going to hide here in the Ghetto while she gets married and you are not even bothering to pass that to her personally. Why? Because my brother is a coward and a…" Vanessa completed her sentence with a phrase that would have given Aunt Vespesia a fit.

"Vanessa Walsh, you are not to use such language ever!" a horrified Virgil snapped. The colour rose in his cheeks. "And you are wrong. I will go and pass this to Bridie personally…"

"Then you better do it before the council gets wind of it… unless you want to pass your gift to her in the presence of the entire council," Vanessa sniped.

"Lord's sakes! It's the wee hours of the morning! I'll pass it to her tomorrow night… if she's not too busy…" he faltered. His heart thumped wildly. This was insane. _He couldn't be in love with Bridie. Why did her wedding unsettle him so much?_ Duty dictated that they could never cross that line. Better to bury those thoughts under work matters…

Seemingly satisfied, or tired, Vanessa stifled a yawn. "I'm sure she'll love it… you play the piano so beautifully… if only…" she yawned again and staggered off to bed. If only he played it more often… Vanessa wished she could hear those melodies, even if she had long admitted that she would never be able to play the piano herself. She had gone through seven piano teachers with nothing to show for it.

* * *

_What the hell am I doing here?_ Virgil asked himself. It was a beautiful moonlit night. He had sneaked up to the palace gardens through the old tunnel. He was on the verge of returning to the safety of the Ghetto when he heard her voice.

"Virgil?"

"B-Bridie?" The words caught in his throat. Mutely, he held out the music box to her. "For me? A wedding present? How sweet… Thank you…" she gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Bridie, I'm sorry… but I have to say this." _I love you._

"Hush, my dearest friend," the young queen placed a finger on Virgil's lips. "It is a lovely night, come…" Bridie took Virgil's hand and pulled him out into the moonlight. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes, it is…" Virgil gasped. The roses were in bloom though it was late in the season. The moon cast a slivery glow over the silent garden. Smiling, Bridie spun round, arms outstretched. "Will you dance with me, Virgil?" She wore a plain dress with a full skirt. The simple design flattered her. Her hair was tousled.

"Sure, Bridie," Virgil smiled and offered her his hand. They danced a waltz amidst the fragrant roses under the silvery moon. When it was over, they sat down a bench in silence until Virgil spoke.

"Bridie, it is late. You should get your sleep before your wedding," Virgil said. "I wish you happiness, Your Majesty." He rose and bowed.

"You're right as always, Virgil. It is late. I wish you could attend but it will be held in the day at the cathedral. I wish you happiness, too, Virgil," she gave him a kiss on the cheek and left.

**Author's Notes:**

Thanks for reading. I'm ending this fic here.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

I am resurrecting this fic after a long hiatus as I now feel more confident as a writer to deal with the Tristan-Isolde type love conundrum Virgil and Bridget are in. And there are way too few fics on the couple here. I'm so used to using Bridget instead of the officially recognized Brigitte. I will stick to it.

**15. Lady Vanessa**

The wedding was the toast of the town, even in the Ghetto. However, Virgil was able to shut out his feelings by throwing his heart and soul into his work. Gilbert, the newly crowned king, was a bore who had little interest in matters of state, but he was well-liked all the same by his subjects. The royal couple were quickly whisked off for their honeymoon while Virgil slaved over the new advanced electronics chip production plans in his office.

Virgil had other things to worry about, like his sister. Vanessa was growing up fast and was now at the threshold of teenage rebellion. Old Mortimer was slated to retire due to failing health. Even Methuselahs don't live forever. Poor Vanessa was soon bereft of the old butler's steadying influence. A difficult child to start with, his sister became a real terror. Her teachers in school often called her beleaguered guardian up regarding her many misdemeanours, running the gauntlet from insolence and smoking in school lavatories to fighting on the playground and locker room thefts.

"Vanessa, we don't visit Aunt Vespesia half-dressed…" he considered Vanessa's idea of clothes for a family tea. "And what have you done to your face?"

Vanessa scowled at her brother. She was wearing a teensy, almost indecent mini skirt and a torn halter-top. Both of which Virgil was certain he had not purchased for her. Her face was garishly painted with glitter and make-up.

"Go wash your face… and wear something more decent," Virgil lowered his newspaper in exasperation. He would have to rummage through her closet for some presentable clothes. The fuming girl stormed off muttering curses under her breath. It was with much grumbling that Vanessa reluctantly scrubbed her face clean and changed into a blouse with a knee-length skirt.

Virgil hoped Aunt Vespesia would be able to take his sister in hand but Aunt Vespesia was not keen on educating the little savage she was presented with. "You left it too late, Virgil." She shook her wise head. "She's utterly spoiled as a child and God help you when she becomes a woman." Grand-aunt and nephew watched in resignation as Vanessa nonchalantly bopped to the sound of the latest pop group on her headphones, blatantly ignoring her elders.

* * *

It was another six months before Bridie called on her guardian of the Ghetto. She was positively beaming from the honeymoon tour.

"Oh, Virgil. It's a pity Gil has caught the flu. You'll like him too. He's really sweet…" Birdie chatted. The queen had grown to love her husband. "You'd like him too, Virgil… What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Your Majesty…" Virgil felt a sour taste in his mouth. He had been so naïve. How could he even presume to love his queen? The gulf between them was simply too huge to ever hope to bridge.

"Bridie, Virgil… Let's not have formalities when we're alone…" It was then that Virgil realised that both her guards and his engineers had drifted out of the meeting room, leaving them alone.

"It's strange, Virgil… I love Gil, and I love you too…"

"Bridie… I'm sorry, but we really shouldn't… Albion needs her king and an heir from you and His Majesty…" His words were cut off by Bridie's lips on his. He gasped, then pulled back quickly lest they were caught. Bridie giggled softly.

"Do you still love me, my knight?"

"Yes, I do…"

"Perhaps, Virgil… Someday you will find a woman you love to marry, besides me…" There was a tinge of sadness in her voice. "I don't want you to be alone for the rest of your life…"

"But…"

"No, buts, Virgil. You know what I mean… Someday, I will grow old while you remain young… Will you still love me when I'm not so beautiful anymore?"

"You'll always be the most beautiful woman in my eyes, Bridie…" Their eyes met.

"Sir!" a secretary came running into the room. Both queen and knight released their hands from each other's', unaware that they had even been holding hands.

"Jones, what is it?" Virgil tried to inject a tone of command in his voice.

"It's from the Ghetto Middle School 5, Miss Vanessa has, er, set fire to the chemistry lab," the secretary replied.

"Good Lord! That girl will be the death of me! Is she hurt?" Virgil groaned. It was the second time in a week the school called him over Vanessa.

"No, sir. But three of her classmates were slightly injured…"

Virgil turned to Bridget. "I'm sorry, Your – Bridie…"

"Go see to Vanessa, Virgil. I would like to meet her again, perhaps at her debutante ball… though I think there're still a few years before that." Bridie waved him onwards. She had seen the thin lines of care lining her friend's face. Virgil was aging under the twin loads of responsibility running the Ghetto and caring for his sister. Perhaps he needed a vacation. Carefully, Bridie considered how to go about introducing her husband to the Ghetto's nobility.

* * *

"I don't like dresses!" Vanessa scowled. Her hair was unkempt and she was wearing a torn pair of leather pants with a halter-top. Once more, she had make-up on her face, way too garish for Virgil's liking.

"But it's such a pretty dress…" Virgil coaxed. He had seen the dress in a newspaper advertisement and gone Above one night to buy it after checking his sister's dress-size. Aunt Vespesia had sent over a dozen of Vera's old dresses after that disastrous family tea._ She's a Walsh, Virgil, not any guttersnipe and she must dress properly as to befit her station. _Vespesia had said. Vanessa hated the lace and ribbons. She hated the ruffles and girlish roses.

"We're going to meet Their Majesties and you should dress properly… Look, it is such a nice shade of blue and aren't those bows lovely?"

"I don't care!" Vanessa snatched up the offending dress and flung it back at her brother. She then stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her so hard that the family portraits rattled on their hooks. A few fell crashing to the carpet. Virgil sighed in exasperation. They were already running late. He would have to meet Bridie without his sister.

From the photos in the papers, he seemed a kindly enough man, but Virgil had long learnt that appearances were often deceptive. He dreaded meeting the king. His Majesty Gilbert was most overwhelmed by the technology of the Ghetto. "All this, right under our feet! I say! And you run all this like clockwork, well done, Walsh my man!" he was like a curious child. Bridie was more restrained than usual when she accepted Virgil's greeting. If she noticed Vanessa's absence from the welcome party, she did not mention it.

* * *

The reporters Above were watching the royal couple like hawks. Speculation was rife. _Was the Queen with child?_ For now, Birdie's waist remained as slim and virginal as ever. The royal couple went about their business of attending balls, charity galas and the openings. It soon became noticed that Gilbert was never at any of the Albionian Parliament meetings in Westminster. He was never seen at the theatre which Her Majesty attended in the company of various nobles, including the Count of Manchester on rare occasion. Between his work and family problems, the Count of Manchester had little time to accompany Bridget and she understood.

Sometimes, Virgil would feel a twinge of guilt when Birdie's hand brushed against his own in the coach, or when she leaned closer to him to comment on the play. _How would Gilbert react to their unusual relationship? Did he even know? _His Majesty liked noting better than to spend his weekends fishing, social events made him uncomfortable, so Bridie said.

Some of the papers did not take so kindly to Bridie's dalliances with various young noblemen. Her attending the opening night of _Tosca_ with the Viscount Arundell caused a stir in the tabloids when the paparazzi snapped the young noble picking up her dropped hanky. Gilbert was away fishing in Cornwall then. At the New Year's Ball, Her Majesty danced with Lord Winters' three teenaged sons in quick succession. His Majesty attended the ball but he was not keen on dancing.

**Author's Notes: **

Don't know how it will work out from here. Don't expect Virgil or Birdie to take their relationship to the next level though. Sir Virgil is like a knight of the courtly love tradition where Birdie is concerned. He'd put her on a pedestal and worship her with all his heart and soul, but he'd never ever think of having physical relations with her.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

Emme, as much as we love to see them together, it will be out of character for Virgil to actually get involved that way. He is too proper for that.

**16. Debutante Ball**

The days, weeks and months passed. Virgil settled into an easy schedule of work, punctuated by visits to his queen. Despite the best efforts of the Ghetto elders, he remained single. Aunt Vespesia would find excuses to introduce young Methuselah ladies from the upper levels of Ghetto society. Like always, Virgil would accept the invitations politely but coolly. His dedication to his work was remarkable but it also made him a less than desirable husband.

"You have to pass on the Walsh family name…" he would be urged. "Marry, have a son…"

"There will be time for that later. Right now I must look into the quality control on line 12…" Always, he would find excuses. Until the elders gave up trying.

The belief was that Sir Virgil Walsh would remain a bachelor for life and the Walsh name would die out with him. The elders turned their attention to Vanessa and shook their heads. Vanessa was growing up fast and like a weed. She had the speech of a street urchin and the manners of one. There was little hope of marrying her off to an acceptable young man when she came of age. She was a nondescript child, but as she grew into womanhood, even Virgil had to admit that she had a wild, untamed type of beauty. It was the type of beauty which attracted often undesirable attention.

* * *

"Vanessa!"

Virgil had returned home early one evening to find his sister locked in amorous embrace with a young punk on the couch. He glowered at the young Romeo, who promptly excused himself with haste. Vanessa scowled at her retreating paramour and then at her brother. She then started re-buttoning her open jacket, which was showing a good deal of bosom. She was a young woman and must be taught about the birds and the bees. Virgil quailed at the notion. Aunt Vespesia had passed into the first stages of senility. They had no other older woman in the family who could speak to her of it. It was up to him as her guardian to…

"Vanessa… you are a young woman now and there are some things which you should know…" Virgil struggled to put into words the lesson Aunt Vespesia taught both him and Vera on announcing their engagement. "Well, erm… you see, a man and his wife er… get in bed and…"

Vanessa stared at him as he flushed red and fumbled over the words. "Brother, if you are giving me the birds and bees talk, save it. I already know everything that goes on between a man and a woman and into the making of a baby. And don't worry about that part- I'm already on the pill. Now, if you'd excuse me, I'd like to take a shower…" Vanessa drawled and hopped off the couch.

Virgil wanted to hit his head against the wall in frustration.

* * *

"Virgil. I believe Vanessa should be of age now. When will you be presenting her at the debutante ball?" Bridie let slip one night at the opera.

"My sister is in no way ready to be presented!" Virgil balked. Vanessa would probably go to the palace in one of those skimpy skin-tight leather garments she was insufferably fond of.

"She's sixteen. Every girl wants to be a princess, even if for one night. Take it as a royal command," Bridie teased.

"Over my dead body, Bridie," Virgil replied.

* * *

Bridie won out in the end. Virgil prayed hard that his sister would not do anything foolish to scandalize the Walsh family before the entire court. He had spent an entire afternoon lecturing his sister on the importance of her coming out. It was a tradition of all noble families, even those restricted to the Ghetto. It was an occasion for families to introduce their daughters to society and hopefully for the girls, a chance to be acquainted with a suitable future husband. For Bridie, it meant more, so much more. And Virgil understood.

In her great-grandfather's day, the leaders of the Ghetto were barely acknowledged and confined to the underground city on the pain of death. Then they conferred titles on the leading families, such as the Walshes. The restrictions on their movements remained. Queen Bridget was determined to change all that. She insisted that her Methuselah nobles be allowed to attend council meetings up Above. So far, only Virgil had ventured out as the leader of the Ghetto. The others were too wary of the commonplace ill-will of the Terrans. Even so, only a handful of Terrans were aware of Count Virgil's true nature. Now he was to present his sister to the queen, as if Vanessa were a noble-born Terran lady.

Bridie had been kind enough to inform him of the protocol expected. A teacher of etiquette was hired for his sister. Appointments were made at a fashionable dressmaker's. Vanessa was no stranger to Above. Virgil had brought her to the palace once to attend a private Christmas party on invitation by the queen. She was a child then and had been all but overwhelmed by the vastness of the starry winter sky. Snow. She had walked out into the snow barefoot with awe all over her little face.

Vanessa was no longer a child. She could not go to the debutante ball in jeans and a cardigan like she did to the party so long ago. Virgil suspected that Vanessa sometimes snuck off during the day to explore the world Above. She probably had a friend up there to help her. He often found things in her room which could not be so easily explained away. A Goldie Toffee wrapper from sweets sold up Above, a dried rose bud, a raven's feather… Soon she would be turning. Most Ghetto-born Methuselahs turned in their late teens or early twenties. _Will she mourn the loss of those forbidden daytime excursions?_

"Lady Vanessa is ready, sir…" the timid lady's maid announced. Virgil snapped out of his reverie. He gasped at the figure who stepped out of the room.

Vanessa Walsh had deigned to wear the standard long gloves and ball gown of a debutant. However, where most girls would be clad in soft pastel shades, her gown was an unapologetic scarlet shot with black lace. Her gloves were black velvet. Her hair was worn freely down her back, her bare back. Vanessa had chosen to push the limits of decency to maximum by dropping the back of her gown almost to the top of her buttocks. Her dress also exposed her ivory shoulders and a good deal of her bosom. At least the trailing skirts covered her legs.

Virgil was certain that the last time he had spoken with the dressmaker, he had chosen a modest gown of pink ruffles. Work had kept him away and allowed Vanessa to make some changes of her own to the design. The maid helped Vanessa fasten a choker of jet stones around her neck.

"How do I look?" Vanessa asked. Virgil balked. "Stunning, milady," the maid chirped. She helped her mistress tie on a pair of leather high heels. Vanessa was wearing fishnet stockings underneath her skirts.

"Vanessa! You can't…" Virgil made a weak protest.

"I can. It is too late to make changes now. We'll be late, brother…" his rebellious sister smiled sweetly over the top of her black feathered fan.

* * *

The entrance of Lady Vanessa caused quite a stir in the dour halls of the palace. She was like a fire among the other girls, earning their ire and envy in equal measure. All the ladies paled in comparison to her. Poor Henry Spencer looked like a goldfish as he gaped at the vision before him. To allow Count Virgil to attend, the debutante ball had been held at night. The light of the many faceted chandeliers were amazingly becoming as they beamed down on Lady Vanessa.

Immediately the young men were flocking around them, asking Vanessa to dance with them, go out with them… Virgil had to politely decline the invitations on his sister's behalf. Vanessa never learned to dance, her stubbornness the bane of her dancing teachers. It would never do for his sister to be associated with some rake. Besides, they must present Vanessa to the royal couple.

"Presenting the Lady Vanessa Walsh…" Spencer announced.

Virgil took his sister's hand and escorted her up the aisle to where both the king and queen waited on their thrones. To Vanessa's credit, she executed a perfect curtsey before Bridie.

Once the pleasure of showing up the other girls and the attentions of the young men wore thin, Vanessa soon became bored. For Virgil's part, he inexplicably found himself targeted as a potential husband by various debutants and their mothers. It was with great relief that Her Majesty ordered the Count of Manchester to speak with her at the cocktail table. He excused himself from a pair of matrons and their wards and went over to Bridie.

"Virgil… Your sister made quite an impression," Bridie smiled over her cocktail. King Gilbert had excused himself from the ball.

"I rather wish she had not…" Virgil felt the beginning of a headache coming on. He groped in his coat pocket for an aspirin. Bridie suddenly clutched at his elbow.

"Virgil, I do believe I just watched Vanessa and Henry Spencer sneaking out to the conservatory…" Virgil blanched at her words and sprinted clean across the ballroom for the conservatory.

"Oh, Henry!" Vanessa's giggle reached him first. Virgil saw both Henry and Vanessa sitting on a bench, holding hands. Then Vanessa kissed the stunned guard on the lips.

"VANESSA!" Virgil hollered. "What do you _think_ you're doing?"

"Oh, seducing Henry," Vanessa did not even bat an eyelid. The guard blanched, then went beetroot red. Virgil recalled Henry Spencer hailed from a long line of palace guards and soldiers. He had been serving on the palace staff since boyhood. He leapt to his feet and mumbled an apology. Virgil waved him away. Henry was a decent lad. If anyone was at fault, it was most likely Vanessa. Henry cautiously retreated.

"Brother, I almost had him," Vanessa pouted.

"Vanessa, you know the rules…"

"Right, no intermarriage… Relax, brother. I can't possibly marry Henry. He'd be old and wrinkled before long," Vanessa retorted. "Can't we just have a one-night stand?"

"No one-night stands, Vanessa. Come, we're going home."

"Fine…" his sister pouted and swished out of the room. Virgil groaned. He had no doubt that Vanessa would have many affairs besides the honest Henry Spencer.

**Author's Notes:**

Vanessa is causing poor Virgil a good deal of grief. :P


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

**17. An Heir **

There were some things which Virgil never expected. He never expected Vanessa's turning to be so uneventful. In fact, Vanessa was apparently more aware than he was at that stage of the changes occurring in her body. She had gone to a Ghetto physician without bothering to inform her guardian to get those blood tablets to ease her thirst. The Ghetto's inhabitants are all entitled to a regular supply of the tablets once their Methuselah heritage kicked in.

Virgil never expected her to relinquish her daylight excursions above so easily. Then he found out Vanessa was a fan of the night-scene of Londonium. He never expected Henry Spencer to end up becoming his fast ally in bailing his wayward sister out of a good many fisticuffs and scrapes in bar fights. Vanessa's inhuman strength and later her uncanny powers with her hair… Spencer and Bridie had to pull a couple of strings on more than one occasion to cover up a bad night out by Vanessa.

Virgil did once have Vanessa locked up in the Ghetto as punishment for a good two months for her persistent troublemaking. It did little to deter her and their relationship became more strained. A war in the Americas caused demand for the Ghetto's mainstay of car parts to fall. It took a full five years before the economy improved.

* * *

It was expected that the queen would provide the kingdom of Albion with an heir soon. Perhaps within the year. Instead, the years flew by with no sign of any quickening on Bridget's part. By the fifteenth year of her marriage, the rumours were flying fast and furious. _Was the queen of Albion barren? Who would succeed her?_ Would the Queen adopt that young count she was often seen with at the opera on opening night? Virgil thought it ironic that despite being her senior in years, he was now mistaken for a younger man beside her, young enough to be her son. Bridie was soon nearing forty. Yet the royal nursery remained silent.

Parliament clamoured, demanding an heir be named. The queen was not immortal and she was already in her middle-years. Grey hairs had started to appear behind her ears, betraying her growing age. The lines on her face were more pronounced. The royal couple did not want for trying. The king curtailed his fishing trips to spend more nights with Bridie, to no avail.

The elders of the Ghetto fretted along with Virgil with regards to the lack of an heir. Albion needed a Crown Prince or Princess to continue the policy of co-existence. Virgil groaned inwardly as Vanessa slammed the door shut behind her. He had tried to inspire his sister's interest in the factories and labs of the Ghetto but she had no liking for the work. Instead, she preferred frittering her time with her wastrel friends in some rock band or in the Londonium pubs at night. Vanessa did apply to work at the Ghetto's children home once on her own initiative. However, her application was rejected on the grounds of her less-than-stellar past at the same home.

"It would appear that Her Majesty would consider Count Johannes of Munich or Duke Morgan of Dublin as possible candidates to succeed her…" the Count of Manchester announced solemnly to the gathering of sober-faced elders. There was a nervous murmur before one hand raised up. It was Scientific Advisor Mallory.

"Sir, there is one possibility that has provided many otherwise childless couples in the Ghetto with children…" Mallory ventured and was almost immediately shouted down by his fellow elders.

"It's too risky!"

"We can't let them have any more of our technology!"

"Enough!" Virgil stood up and slammed both his palms on the table. A hush fell over the assembly. It was rare for the Count to display any temper. The older members of the council coughed and inched perceptibly back from him, as if recalling the foul moods of his predecessor.

"Mallory, tell us more of this technology which might provide Albion with an heir…" Virgil smiled grimly.

* * *

A year later…

"Virgil… I'm scared."

"I'm right here," Virgil took his queen's hand in his and kissed it lightly. King Gilbert had been delayed by bad weather on his fishing trip in Scotia. The telegram had been sent to him. The past year had been a trial on them all. After reassuring himself that the medical procedure put forward by his advisor was safe, he had made an appointment with both Bridie and her husband. The rate of success was high enough to be considered by the royal couple. Everything had to be conducted in secret, right from the pre-procedural medical check-ups.

Bridie's check-up revealed a host of medical problems which made any pregnancy precarious for her. Still she agreed to continue with the operation.

"Albion needs her heir, Virgil… and I trust you. This could actually work…"

She almost miscarried in her third month and was confined to a bed afterwards, deep in the sterile environment of the Ghetto's hospital. King Gilbert tried running the nation the best he could but it was the norm to find Bridie poring over important documents Spencer brought down for her to advise on. Vanessa dropped by once with a box of Bridie's favourite chocolates, which she was not to have on the doctors' orders. Bridie's sampling of one of the infernal confections almost resulted in a medical emergency.

"Please don't stop her from visiting me. Vanessa meant no harm. Besides, she keeps me company when you're busy…"

Virgil then ordered that his sister be searched for contraband chocolates whenever she visited the queen.

It was too early. Seven months in and the royal heir set to make his or her entry into the world. Vanessa was massaging Bridie's temples and shouting for the nurses. The sheets were stained with Bridie's blood and other fluids. When the bleeding first started, that was when Bridie, who had been so brave and stoic throughout the ordeal, started crying. Alarmed, Virgil held her close.

"Bridie, everything will be alright…" Virgil prayed his voice did not betray his own fear. It was then that the doctors came and took over.

Twelve nerve-wracking hours later…

Vanessa cooed and cradled the new crown prince. He was born two months early but had a pale tuft of reddish hair. "He'll look just like you," Lady Vanessa grinned at an exhausted Bridie. Count Virgil helped Queen Bridget into a sitting position and she held out her arms for her infant. Vanessa readily relinquished her possession of the infant.

"Virgil… My knight, thank you…" the proud new mother kissed him chastely on the cheek. "Would you deign to be my son's godfather?"

"Bridie… the honour is all mine but it might not be proper…" Virgil started but that was as far as he got. He bowed as the king finally arrived belatedly from Scotia. Virgil hustled his scowling sister out of the ward, leaving the royal couple with their new baby.

"Would you be godfather to the boy?" Vanessa snapped as soon as they were out of earshot.

"No, it is not done. The court will never allow a Methuselah to be godfather to the crown prince," Virgil confessed.

"The court is an ass then! It is thanks to our medical science that they even have a prince…"

"Hush, Vanessa…"

"It's so blooming unfair! What are we? Their slaves? Some deep dark secret to be buried?"

"Vanessa! You are out of line! Go home, now!" Virgil immediately regretted his harsh tone. He was starting to sound like his father.

"FINE!" Vanessa stormed off with her hair writhing like a nest of angry serpents.

The young prince would be baptised as Prince Gilbert Edward Arthur of Albion and as Virgil predicted, Bridie's decision for a godfather was overruled by Westminster. However, the Methuselahs chuckled to see that a minor noble, Henry Spencer, had been chosen for the role. And Bridie had apparently conferred a baronet on the guard barely an hour before the baptism. The royal court was outraged but there was little they could do. It was to prove a wise choice as Spencer was as loyal as any old hound and would be a constant companion to the young boy.

**Authors Notes:**

Vanessa is not a bad girl, she is just misunderstood.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

This is moving too slowly. I can't wait to finish off the relationship with the Queen's death.

**18. Prince Gil**

Virgil never thought that such a day would come. Not one of the queen's servants or guards batted at eyelid at his presence in her private rooms, even at such a late hour. It was no longer necessary for nightfall for his visits to the palace since all the window panes were replaced with UV filtered glass. Queen Bridget tended to get lonely at night, ever since her husband died of a heart attack on one of his fishing trips. There was nothing scandalous about his presence as far as Bridie was concerned. She just wanted someone to chat with besides her rather dull maidservants. The prince whose birth was the result of the Ghetto's cutting edge technology was now a young man. Soon he would be ruling Albion alongside his mother. Prince Gilbert Edward, fondly known as Gil, was a bright child who came into his royal responsibilities early when his father died. Not that King Gilbert did much in the way of ruling the kingdom. Bridie did much of the work.

It was often Henry Spencer who would be there to comfort and guide young Gil whenever his mother was caught up in her duties. They had watched Gil grow from a shy youngster to the confident man he now was. Bridie had aged much in the intervening years, as did Henry Spencer. Even Virgil was starting to feel the weight of the years on his shoulders. Yet some things never changed. Vanessa was still her wild, partying self.

Virgil thought his sister a bad influence on the young prince. Hadn't she convinced seven-year-old Gil to drink three glasses of brandy at the New Year Ball? He had been awfully sick the day after. When Gil was thirteen, Vanessa assisted him in escaping the watchful eyes of Henry Spencer for a pub jaunt that ended up in a brawl. Prince Gil had conducted himself well in dealing with the aftermath, paying for the medical bills of the men Vanessa beat up. It was with great relief that Vanessa stopped introducing the prince to mischief afterwards.

* * *

"Virgil… I'm worried about Gil…" Bridie confided in her childhood companion.

"About what, Bridie? He has intelligence, health and above all a good heart. He would make a fine ruler someday…"

"You know he has been staying with the Spencers on occasion. Henry has young niece, Magda Spencer, daughter of his brother Charles and his wife. I have reason to fear that Magda and Gil might be conducting a secret affair… Magda is of lowly birth and her mother was a theatre actress and rumoured courtesan before she was wedded. I know it is wrong to part them if they are truly in love, but Albion will never accept such a union by her Crown Prince. Please, God, let me be mistaken or it be a passing fancy…"

Gil had inherited his mother's red hair and stubborn streak. He had a handsome smile which all the ladies found irresistible. Magda Spencer had not the fortune to inherit her mother's beauty. Instead, she had inherited the lanky stature and plain looks of the Spencers. She also had a reputation, undeserved or not, for being too ready with her favours in desperate attempts to land a husband of standing.

"Perhaps you should separate them and let their infatuation die away… Send Gil on some diplomatic duties or further studies abroad…" Virgil suggested.

He never expected his innocent suggestion to return and plague them later.

* * *

"Your Majesty," Henry twisted his hat in his hands. The poor man was in a tizzy when he all but demanded an audience with the queen. Bridie counted Henry Spencer among her closest friends and readily agreed to meet him in the study despite being in the middle of dinner with Virgil.

"My niece is with child and she claims it is the prince's…"

"Henry, you know my reasons for sending Gil to Calais. He can't marry Magda. The country will never accept it…"

"As for the child?"

"Let her keep the child. It's innocent. But don't tell Gil… He'd only want to do the right thing by marrying her even if it cost us the kingdom. We'll have to make provisions for the child when it comes…"

"I understand, Your Majesty…" Henry Spencer bowed, somewhat placated. They both understood the threat of a marriage between the Crown Prince and a lady deemed unsuitable by the ruling nobles. Hadn't the Duke of Ireland been assassinated with his new bride after he had gone against public opinion and married his maidservant? The death had cleared the way for his cousin and his blue-blooded wife to claim the title. The Prince of Tuscany had been the target of an attempt by his own brothers for spurning marriage with a French princess in favour of his commoner mistress. The resultant civil war between the brothers allowed the Vatican to move into the country.

* * *

As expected, Gil forgot about his mistress as soon as he was caught up with his diplomatic duties. The tabloids were also abuzz with the lovely women often in his company. Prince Gil was always one for the ladies. Bridie wrote a stern letter of advice to her son to rein in his partying.

For several years, Gil gave no cause for concern. In the meantime, various noble ladies were considered as potential brides. One fine autumn day, Prince Gil met a young woman from Istvan. Bianca was a sweet-natured woman blessed with both looks and intelligence. She hailed from a respectable family of some noble blood.

"Bridie, forgive me but I do not think His Highness' relationship with Bianca will be well-received by the citizens."

"Oh, Virgil… do get up. You know you don't have to kneel before me when it's just the two of us… and Henry…" Bridie was smiling in that mischievous way Virgil was so used to when she has struck on some daring idea.

Apologising, Virgil rose. Henry Spencer's presence was the latest concession to the Albionian court's increasing speculations regarding the relationship between their Queen and the Count of Manchester. The seedy tabloids were becoming bolder with their rumours. The prestige of the Albionian crown must be preserved but Bridie drew the line at banishing her best friend from the palace. Still, one must appease the nobles to an extent.

"Gil and Bianca have both sought our blessings for their union and we have granted them," Birdie said with an imperious air which brooked no argument on the matter. "We will have to present Lady Bianca to the nobles of course, before we announce the engagement…"

"Spencer, say something, please…" Virgil appealed to the captain of the palace guards. Henry Spencer only stroked his moustache.

"Count Virgil, Lady Bianca is a sensible young woman with a noble bloodline and they are very much in love with each other…" he said tersely. His own niece, the once mistress of Prince Gil, had gone on to wed a merchant before perishing of a fever. Gil's bastard daughter by her was raised as Henry Spencer's ward. Bianca was a far more acceptable candidate than Magda.

"He is serious about her and would have married her with or without my blessings. I rather they wed with than without…" Bridie added.

Virgil knew there was no point in pressing the matter. Bridie was stubborn. He was not going to talk her round. The risks were still high. The court might accept her for her noble bloodline, descended from the now-defunct kings of Poland and Hungaria. However, there was still a deep-set prejudice against people from the Continent. _What if they considered her noble blood too diluted? What if they thought her a commoner and foreigner?_

* * *

"Storm in a teacup, brother…" Vanessa laughed over breakfast when he brought the matter of Prince Gil's imminent marriage. It was rare that she was actually home. "You know Birdie would have married you if you asked back then, bro… even if it means running off to get hitched."

"Vanessa! This is serious. It is a matter of national concern!" Virgil could feel the colour come to his cheeks.

"Nothing will change here in the Ghetto, will it? Though if Gillie wants, I can help him elope with the lady…" There was an edge to his sister's voice that he had not noticed before. Recently, there has been dissent building in the Ghetto.

"Vanessa, we have been over this many times…"

"Yes, yes. We must be grateful the Terrans allow us to live like damned rats in this hellhole…"

There was the sound of smashing china as Vanessa slammed her teacup onto the saucer so hard it shattered. She excused herself with mush ill grace from the table and all Virgil could do was to shake his head helplessly.

* * *

As Virgil dreaded, the news of Prince Gil's wedding plans were met with stony resistance from many of the nobles. The tabloids were stirring up anti-foreign sentiments among the citizens of Londinium. Some of the stories were so outrageous. They accused Bianca of being a Methuselah spy or a witch. Other reports claimed that Her Majesty had lost her mind in blessing the union. Prince Gil would not be persuaded by public opinion against his bride-to-be. Faced with possible anarchy, most of the nobles eventually stood on the side of their queen.

The wedding was a simple affair conducted in a small chapel while protesters and soldiers fought a running battle in the streets outside Westminster. Virgil was not invited as it was held in the day. Her Majesty was confined to the palace due to the protests. Only Henry Spencer and a handful of the couple's friends were in attendance. It was decided that the newlyweds would leave Albionian for the Continent, and stay there for at least year or so till things died down at home.

**Author's Notes:**

I'm using the novelization and manga storyline of Mary Spencer being Esther's illegitimate half-sister.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

I'm ending this fic for real now. Some references to my Solitude fic, Virgil and Queen Bridget's chapters.

**19. End of the Waltz**

"Virgil, Henry, do you seriously think it is time for them to return?" Bridie fretted. "It would be best for the child to be born on Albion soil but Bianca's condition is delicate…"

"There is nothing to be worried about," Virgil reassured his friend. "We assure you that the best Albionian doctors both from the surface and the Ghetto." Henry nodded his assent. The majority of their citizens have indicated their fondness for their Crown Prince and would gladly welcome his return. However, there was still a minority who still refused to accept their Crown Princess.

"Perhaps we should wait…" the queen toyed with her teacup.

"You will get to see your grandchild sooner, Bridie," Virgil added. "With the new airship route open, it would take three days in fair weather and the weather over Europe is unusually fair this year…"

Virgil knew Bridie missed her son badly. It had been a full year since they last saw Gil. The couple had written to Bridie almost weekly. The queen often read out the letters aloud over tea with her close friends, the Count of Manchester and Baron Spencer present. She knew both Virgil and Henry enjoyed hearing from Gil. The couple had settled in Istvan without much fanfare. The letters told of Bianca's pet dog, their problems with the cook and the changing of seasons. As spring came, Gil wrote of the first months of his wife's pregnancy. Plans were made to return to Albion despite Bridie's misgivings.

Alas, tragedy struck them almost as soon as the parents-to-be arrived in Londinium.

* * *

For a long time after the funeral, the Count of Manchester wondered if his queen blamed him for failing to advise her against her son's return.

Something had shifted when the Crown Prince and his young wife died, assassinated by dissidents in Londinium on their return after their year abroad. Virgil had been detained in the Ghetto over a silly production line break down that awful day. It was Spencer who was there for his liege when she needed someone the most. Bridie still called Virgil to discuss matters of policy in the Ghetto but she never broached the topic which was plaguing the hallowed halls of Westminster to the streets of their city. The Queen had no other children besides her son, so tragically killed.

There were times when the Count felt supplanted in his queen's confidences by Henry Spencer. Not that Virgil begrudged their friendship. Henry was a good friend of his after all.

Henry Spencer had spoken in favour of allowing Methuselah students to pursue their studies alongside their Terran counterparts in the same university campus of Albion University. It was something both Virgil and Bridie had tried both long and hard to convince the Parliament to allow. It was a pity it only lasted a few semesters due to an unfortunate lab accident. When Spencer was killed by a parcel bomb meant for He Majesty, a failure of the palace security, Virgil had the odd nagging feeling that Bridie had lost someone with whom she has shared secrets she could not share with him. _Why should she?_ He was her loyal servant and she his monarch. It was not his place to question her decisions.

"Oh dear, they really don't get along, do they?" Bridie mused as they observed the icy exchange between Mary Spencer and Vanessa Walsh at the Diamond Jubilee reception. It was no surprise to Virgil. Mary had followed her uncle's footsteps and joined the military as a teenager. She had been agreeable enough as a little girl. Bridie herself took an interest in her education from a suitable distance, making her a ward of the crown after Henry's death until her twenty-first birthday. However, Mary developed a lasting bias against all Methuselahs in adulthood, Virgil included, after she was badly beaten up by Vanessa in a pub brawl on the eve of her graduation from cadet school. She had spent a full six months in hospital before she was well enough to be discharged. It was a year before she was fit to return to active service. Even though she had risen through the ranks since to hold the post of captain of the palace guard, she had never forgotten or forgiven.

"They are both young… With time they would learn…" Virgil countered. He did not wish to distress his friend further given her ailing health. Bridie did not need to know about his problems with Vanessa. His sister had been keeping company with several rebellious young Methuselahs from the Ghetto who had spurned the gainful employment of their elders. He would return home on the rare occasion his work allowed to find the apartment he shared with his sister a mess. There would be a haze of weed-smoke, spilled wine and alcohol and sometimes those punks would still be around, filling the air with their rock music. Virgil could never tolerate rock or heavy metal. He wished Vanessa had taken up piano lessons instead of jumping about on the coffee table with that electric guitar. He did not really wish to interfere with his sister's personal life, he had no time and she would only rebel the more if he chided her.

At his age, Virgil did not wish to upset the status quo. His office was his sanctuary now that Bridie's ill health meant less late-night chats or tea between friends.

He had sought the opinion of many doctors in the Ghetto. Their response was always the same.

"_There's nothing we can really do… It's her age… Terrans age faster than us… Their bodies wear out…" _The inbreeding of several generations of European royalty meant that Bridie had inherited a catalogue of genetic ailments which emerged with the advancing of her years. Her joints ached terribly whenever the weather turned, leaving her bedridden for days. It hurt Virgil to see her in that state, white-haired, weary and in pain. He had known her when she was a healthy red-haired girl. She would always turn him away when those bouts got really bad.

The reception had taken its toll on her and Virgil escorted her to her bed chamber with the aid of her maid. He wanted to carry her up the long flight of stairs in his arms to spare her aching legs but he could not do so without causing a scandal with so many guests watching. Vanessa had already left the ballroom. His sister had only attended for the food and chance to irk the captain. Mary glared icy daggers at him as they passed her. She did bow politely enough in acknowledgement of the queen's presence. Virgil and Mary Spencer's working relationship was professional at best, terse at worse. Virgil was under no illusions that Mary Spencer regarded him as the Queen's secret lover and an object of disdain.

He watched the maid help Bridie into her bed before he took his leave.

"Virgil…" He stopped and turned. For a moment he saw the red-haired girl he knew and loved looking out of those tired eyes. "Emily, leave us please…" Bridie dismissed the maid.

Emily bobbed a curtsy before leaving.

"Your Majesty? Bridie?" Virgil sensed Bridie was going to tell him something important, very important. She opened her mouth as if to speak. Then she shook her head and motioned him to sit beside her bed.

"I wish I could have told you sooner… Alas… Your face, Virgil, has always been an open book, even though you try to hide your feelings…" Bridie smiled sweetly. "It seems so long ago that we first met… so long. Now I am old and ugly…"

"You are still beautiful, Biridie. You'll always be in my eyes…" Virgil took her wrinkled hand in his. They were gnarled and painfully thin.

"Remember the music… box… you gave me?"

Virgil nodded. Sleep was overtaking her now, an effect of the medicine she had taken before bed for her aches.

"I loved it… was my secret box, my guardian of the Ghetto…" she lifted their hands up so that she could place a light kiss on his thumb. "Goodnight for now… perhaps tomorrow we'll have tea…"

That invitation for tea never came. Bridie had caught pneumonia. Virgil never had time or reason to call on the palace until he was hurriedly summoned by Captain Mary Spencer. He knew then in his heart of hearts, the waltz was ending.

**Author's Notes:**

It is the end of this fiction. I hope this closes the fic sufficiently.


End file.
